THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ft 

t*^. 


WALLY    WANDEROON 


Grandfather's  reminiscences  of  the  Mexican  War. 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

AND    HIS    STORY-TELLING    MACHINE 
BY    JOEL    CHANDLER    HARRIS 

AUTHOR    OF    UNCLE    REMUS,    GABRIEL    TOLLIVER 
THE    MAKING    OF    A    STATESMAN,    ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED     BY     KARL     MOSELEY 


ALDI 


NEW    YORK 

McCLURE,    PHILLIPS    Sf    CO. 
MCMIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1903.  BY 
JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

COPYRIGHT.  1903.  BY  S.  8.  McCxcRE  COMPANY 
Published,  September,  1903,  N 


I 


CONTENTS 

PAOB 

I.     THE  CHILDREN  VISIT  MR.  BOBBS,          ...  3 
II.     THEY  MAKE  THE  ACQUAINTANCE  OP  WALLY  WAN- 

DEROON,         . 16 

III.  THE  GOOD  OLD  TIMES, 27 

IV.  THE  TALE  OP  JOHN  THE  SIMPLETON,     ...  33 
V.     THE  TALE  OP  THE  CRYSTAL  BELL,         ...  59 

VI.  THE  RED  FLANNEL  NIGHT-CAP,     .        .        .        .116 

VII.  Miss  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING, 155 

VIII.  THE  MOUSE  PRINCESS I81 

IX.  THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING, 244 

X.  THE  SUN  TAKES  A  HOLIDAY,  .        .        .        .269 

XI.  BROTHER  RABBIT  AND  THE  BEE,    ....    279 


669290 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

GRANDFATHER'S  REMINISCENCES  OP  THE  MEXICAN  WAR, 

Frontispiece 

BILLY  BISCUIT  RECEIVES  THE  THREE  CHILDREN,     .        .  11 
TRAVELLING  BY  THE  PINE  SAPLING,          ....  21 
SIMPLETON   BEATING  THE  DUMMY    BEFORE   THE  WIFE- 
BEATER'S  HOUSE 35 

THE  MAYOR,  AND  JOHN  (IN  DISGUISE),  AT  THE  INN,          .  45 

DENOUNCING  THE  MAYOR  AS  A  ROGUE 55 

DANCING  TO  THE  Music  OF  HANS'S  FLUTE,       ...  63 

LlZETTE  AND  THE  OLD  WOMAN,          .         ....  69 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  FAIRY  ROSE  HIGHER  IN  THE  AIR,          .  81 

THE  SOLDIERS  PASSING, 91 

LlZETTE  AND  THE  FOOTMAN  ON  THE  BLIND  PATH,            .  99 

THE  ROOM  FULL  OF  TRINKETS, 109 

A  DARK  STRANGER  CAME  TO  OUR  DOOR,          .        .        .119 

THE  MOON  SETTLING  DOWN 129 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  TAVERN  YARD, 141 

THE  ROGUE  CHANGES  INTO  A  ROLLING  BALL,           .        .  145 

THE  STORY  TELLER  GETTING  CLOSE  TO  NATURE,     .        .  151 

BOBBY  DE  RAW  AND  THE  SHOEMAKER'S  DAUGHTER,         .  161 

ARRIVAL  OF  THE  KING'S  DINNER, 171 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

THE  COURT,  185 

LAKRO  AND  LARROLINE 195 

LARUO,  FOLLOWED  BY  THE  WOLF,  LIGHTS  His  WAY 

WITH  THE  YELLOW  CHERRY,  .  .  .  .  .207 
LARKO,  BY  MEANS  OF  His  CANE,  PUTS  A  RUFFIAN-  TO 

FLIGHT, 215 

LARRO  RESCUES  THE  MOUSE-PRINCESS,  .  .  .  .227 
LARRO,  THROWN  INTO  PRISON,  is  COMFORTED  BY  His 

LITTLE  COMPANION, 233 

THE  PRINCESS  INSISTS  THAT  LARRO  RETURN  TO  FINISH 

THE  CEREMONY .  23& 

THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN  APPEARS  AGAIN,  .  .  .249 

MACK  AT  WORK  IN  THE  STABLE, 259 

THE  SUN  TAKES  PART  OF  A  DAY  OFF,  AND  COMES  DOWN 

EARLYj 271 

THE  WHITE  Fox  AND  THE  SUN, 275 

BRER  RABBIT  BRINGS  THE  BEE  HOME 283 

THE  BEE  MAKES  IT  WARM  FOR  BRER  Fox,  .    289 


WALLY    WANDEROON 


THE  CHILDREN  VISIT  MR.  BOBBS 

THE  surrender  of  General  Lee's  army  and  the 
emancipation  of  the  negroes  made  a  great 
change  in  the  prospects  and  prosperity  of 
the  Southern  people,  and  brought  about  many  results, 
which,  while  disagreeable  in  themselves,  have  since 
worked  to  the  advantage  of  the  whole  country.  Such 
country  gentlemen  as  Mr.  Abercrombie,  who,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  the  grandfather  of  Buster  John  and 
Sweetest  Susan,  were  compelled  to  give  up  the  whole- 
some lives  they  had  been  leading  and  look  elsewhere 
for  the  means  of  making  their  living. 

But  Mr.  Abercrombie  was  more  fortunately  situated 
than  the  great  majority  of  the  Southern  planters. 
Some  of  the  former  slaves  had  gone  off  with  the  Fed- 
eral army,  and  others  had  wandered  away,  seeking  to 
better  their  condition.  But,  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions, they  all  came  back  to  the  old  place,  and  an- 
nounced that  they  were  not  only  ready,  but  eager,  to 
[8] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

take  up  their  work  where  they  had  left  it  off.  Under 
the  changed  conditions  this  could  not  be ;  but  to  each 
one  who  was  willing  to  enter  into  a  contract,  the  terms 
of  which  were  simple  and  complete,  a  parcel  of  land 
was  allotted,  and  he  was  duly  installed  as  tenant. 
When  the  contract  had  been  made  plain  to  them,  they 
were  quite  ready  to  make  their  marks  on  the  document, 
and  all  were  willing  that  Aaron,  the  son  of  Ben  Ali, 
should  act  as  general  superintendent. 

Under  the  terms  of  the  contract,  each  tenant  was  to 
be  provided  with  a  half-year's  supply  of  provisions, 
seed  for  sowing,  and  implements  for  tilling  the  soil. 
In  the  allotment  of  land  to  the  tenants,  the  husband 
of  Jemimy — that  same  Jemimy  who  was  the  mother  of 
Drusilla — secured  a  parcel  at  the  farthest  limits  of  the 
plantation,  which  was  nearly  three  miles  from  the  home 
place,  and  not  very  far  from  the  modest  farm  of  Mr. 
Bobbs,  where,  as  we  all  know,  lived  Billy  Biscuit  and 
Cawky  the  Crow. 

This  arrangement  suited  Jemimy  and  her  husband 
very  well.  The  success  of  Mr.  Bobbs  as  a  small  far- 
mer had  made  a  very  deep  impression  on  both  whites 
and  blacks  in  that  neighbourhood,  and  Jemimy's  hus- 
[4] 


MR .    BOB  BS 

band  made  up  his  mind  to  discover  how  a  good  crop 
can  be  made  in  a  bad  season.  For  her  part,  Jemimy 
was  very  glad  to  get  a  vacation  from  the  kitchen.  She 
had  been  cooking  for  many  years,  and  the  business 
had  grown  somewhat  monotonous,  especially  since  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  an  event  that  marked  the  decay 
of  the  old  social  customs  that  had  kept  the  houses  of 
the  country  gentlemen  full  of  company  half  the  year. 
With  company  in  the  house,  Jemimy  had  no  objection 
to  cooking;  in  fact,  she  delighted  in  it,  for  then  she 
had  an  excuse  to  practise  it  as  an  art.  But  day  in 
and  day  out,  with  nothing  to  cook  but  the  plainest 
food,  and  no  company  to  serve  as  an  excuse  for  an 
extra  dish  or  two,  cooking  became  tiresome,  and 
Jemimy  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  kitchen. 

The  only  member  of  her  family  who  was  not  glad 
of  the  change  was  Drusilla,  and  she  didn't  like  it  at 
all.  She  had  been  brought  up  with  playmates  to 
choose  from,  as  it  were,  and  she  was  in  no  mind  to  bury 
herself  on  the  plantation  away  from  the  companion- 
ship of  those  who  could  amuse  her,  or  whom  she  could 
amuse.  She  did  very  well  while  her  daddy  and  some 
of  his  friends  were  building  the  cabin,  which  took  no 
[5] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

long  time,  the  structure  being  made  of  logs  and 
plastered  with  clay,  but  when  the  cabin  was  com- 
pleted, and  they  had  settled  down  to  a  life  as  lonely 
as  if  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness,  Dru- 
silla  began  to  grow  very  restless.  She  pined  for  the 
companionship  of  other  children,  and  she  was  con- 
stantly besieging  her  mother  with  requests  to  be  al- 
lowed to  go  back  to  the  home  place  and  spend  the 
day  with  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan. 

The  distance  from  Drusilla's  new  home  to  the 
Abercrombie  place  was  nearly  three  miles,  but  little 
she  cared  for  distance  so  long  as  she  could  find  play- 
fellows. She  went  as  often  as  she  could,  but  the  more 
she  went  the  more  she  wanted  to  go,  until,  finally, 
Jemimy  had  to  "lay  down  de  law  "  to  her.  Then 
Drusilla  suddenly  remembered  that  Mr.  Bobbs  lived 
not  very  far  away,  and  that  by  going  there  she  would 
have  an  opportunity  to  play  with  Billy  Biscuit. 
Thereupon  she  began  to  plead  with  her  mother  to  allow 
her  to  go  and  see  Billy. 

While   she   was   begging   and    pleading   one   day, 
Jemimy  heard  someone  calling  from  the  head  of  the 
narrow  lane  that  ran  from  the  cabin  to  the  road. 
[6] 


MR.    BOBBS 

"Hush  yo'  big  motif!  Hush,  I  tell  you!"  said 
Jemimy  to  Drusilla.  "  Don't  you  hear  some  un  hol- 
lerin'  dey  head  off?  How  kin  I  hear  what  deyer  sain' 
ef  you  keep  on  rattlin'  yo'  tongue  like  a  cow-bell?  " 

Then  Jemimy,  with  real  joy,  heard  the  voice  of 
Sweetest  Susan  calling  her,  and  when  it  seemed  that 
she  could  not  be  heard,  Buster  John  came  to  her  assist- 
ance and  called.  Drusilla,  without  waiting  to  ask  her 
mother,  ran  down  the  lane  to  the  children,  and  they 
were  as  glad  to  see  her  as  she  was  to  see  them.  They 
were  going  to  spend  the  day  with  Billy  Biscuit,  who 
was  a  great  favourite  with  them.  The  children  didn't 
wait  to  ask  Jemimy  if  Drusilla  could  go  with  them. 
Buster  John  ran  down  the  lane  and  told  her  that  they 
were  going  to  see  Billy  Biscuit,  and  that  Drusilla  was 
going  with  them;  that  they  were  driving  their  pony, 
and  that  Drusilla  would  ride  with  them. 

Jemimy  was  very  well  satisfied  with  this  disposition 
of  things.  Nevertheless,  she  remarked  as  Buster  John 
ran  back  to  the  road  again :  "  Huh !  dey  never  is  ter 
fergit  dat  we-all  done  quit  b'longin'  ter'm." 

It  was  no  great  distance  to  the  home  of  Mr.  Bobbs, 
and  the  children  soon  arrived  there;  but  while  they 


W ALLY  WANDEROON 
were  yet  on  the  way — while  they  were  in  sight  of  the 
house — they  saw  a  little  old  man  by  the  side  of  the 
road.  There  is  nothing  strange  in  this  bare  state- 
ment of  fact,  but  there  was  something  very  strange 
about  the  little  old  man.  He  had  very  short  legs,  and 
he  wore  a  very  tall  hat,  while  the  tails  of  his  coat  were 
not  very  far  from  the  ground.  If  he  saw  the  children, 
he  gave  no  sign.  He  was  poking  about  in  the  bushes 
with  his  short  but  stout  walking-cane,  and  he  paid  no 
attention  to  passers-by.  Buster  John  wanted  to 
laugh,  but  prudence  restrained  him.  Drusilla,  not 
knowing  what  prudence  is,  felt  obliged  to  giggle  a 
little  as  they  drove  by  the  little  old  man. 

"  You  should  be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  protested 
Sweetest  Susan.  "  If  you  go  on  making  fun  of  people 
that  way  you'll  be  sorry  some  day." 

"  Huh !  what  little  bit  er  laughin'  I  done  aint 
gwineter  hurt  de  man.  I  hear  um  say  dat  some  folks 
kin  keep  fum  laughin'  when  dey  see  sump'n  funny, 
but  dat  aint  de  way  wid  me.  When  I  want  ter  laugh, 
I'm  bleedze  ter  laugh  er  bust." 

They  went  on  and  left  the  little  old  man  poking 
and  prodding  about  in  the  bushes  with  his  walking- 
[8] 


MR.    BOBBS 

cane,  and  soon  forgot  all  about  him  in  the  pleasure 
they  had  at  seeing  Billy  Biscuit  again.  A  part  of 
this  pleasure  grew  out  of  the  curious  capers  that  Billy 
cut  when  he  saw  them.  He  ran  round  and  round  with 
his  arms  spread  out  as  the  ducks  spread  their  wings 
when  they  are  at  play;  and  then,  to  cap  the  climax, 
he  dropped  on  the  floor,  got  on  his  all-fours,  and, 
before  you  could  count  two,  had  changed  himself  into 
a  pig;  and  before  you  could  find  out  what  kind  of  a 
pig  he  was — Chester-white  or  the  razor-back  variety 
— he  had  changed  himself  into  a  puppy,  and  galloped 
around  barking  gaily. 

This  was  the  way  little  Billy  Biscuit  showed  his 
joy  at  seeing  his  friends  again,  for  he  was  not  much 
of  a  talker.  They  all  had  a  good  time  together,  until, 
finally,  when  they  were  tired  of  Spot  the  house  dog, 
and  of  Cawky  the  tame  crow,  Buster  John  happened 
to  remember  the  little  old  man  they  had  seen  by  the 
roadside ;  and  he  no  sooner  remembered  the  little  old 
man  that  he  began  to  inquire  about  him.  Indeed, 
Buster  John  asked  so  many  questions,  without  catch- 
ing his  breath,  that  Miss  Elviry,  who  was  Mr.  Bobbs's 
sister,  had  to  warn  him  that  he  must  ask  one  question 
[9] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

at  a  time,  otherwise  she  would  never  be  able  to  answer 
him. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Buster  John,  "  who  is  this  little 
old  man,  and  what  makes  him  look  so  funny?  " 

"I  couldn't  tell  you  that,  honey,"  replied  Miss 
Elviry.  "  He  calls  himself  Wally  Wanderoon,  and 
says  he  came  from  a  foreign  country  not  far  from 
here.  He  wanted  my  brother  to  visit  it  with  him  one 
day,  but  Brother  thought  maybe  the  man  was  up  to 
some  prank  or  other,  and  he  didn't  go.  He  comes 
around  occasionally  and  meanders  around.  We  think 
he  is  hunting  for  something  that  he  lost  a  long  time 
ago.  First  and  last,  I  reckon  we've  all  lost  something 
that  we'd  like  mighty  well  to  find."  She  made  this 
last  remark  with  a  sigh. 

"  Would  he  hurt  anybody?  "  Sweetest  Susan  asked. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  replied  Miss  Elviry.  "  Brother  didn't 
know  him  well  when  he  asked  him  to  go  with  him  to 
the  foreign  country  not  far  from  here.  I  heard 
Brother  say  the  other  day  that  he  wisht  the  man 
would  ask  him  ag'in ;  but  he  never  has,  and  I  hardly 
reckon  he  ever  will.  He  says  his  name  is  Wally 
Wanderoon." 

[10] 


Billy  Biscuit  receives  the  three  children. 


MR.    BOBBS 

Buster  John  said  no  more,  but  he  proposed  to  the 
others,  after  a  while,  that  they  go  back  down  the  road 
and  see  if  they  could  find  the  little  old  man.  Drusilla 
didn't  like  the  idea  much. 

"  You  all  des  like  you  use  ter  be ;  freedom  aint 
change  you  a  bit."  Drusilla  had  an  idea  that  free- 
dom was  a  matter  that  should  change  individuals,  as 
well  as  the  whole  face  of  the  world.  Perhaps  she  was 
right  in  that,  in  spite  of  her  ignorance ;  but  freedom, 
like  other  blessings,  must  be  boiled  down  in  order  to 
come  at  the  essence  thereof.  "  I  aint  got  no  better 
sense  dan  ter  go  wid  you,  but  I  tell  you  right  now," 
she  went  on,  "  I  aint  gwineter  run  my  head  in  nffa 
hornets'  nes'.  I  done  went  wid  you-all  un'  de  spring,' 
but  I  aint  gwine  in  no  mo'  holes  in  de  groun'.  I  tell 
you  dat  flat  an'  plain." 

"  To  hear  you  talk,"  remarked  Buster  John  scorn- 
fully, "  people  would  think  that  you  had  been  in  great 
danger.  But  when  did  you  get  hurt  when  you  went 
with  us  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  des  ez  soon  be  hurted  ez  ter  be  skeer'd  ter 
death ;  an'  ef  I  aint  been  skeer'd  dey  aint  nobody  been 
skeer'd.     Bar's  Miss  Susan  '11  tell  you  de  same." 
[13] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Yes,  I  was  frightened  sometimes,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan,  laughing ;  "  but  I  knew  all  the  time  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  frightened  at.  I  knew  it  was  all 
either  a  dream,  or  something  very  like  a  dream." 

"  Yes,"  said  Buster  John  sarcastically, — boys  of 
thirteen  can  be  very  sarcastic, — "  Aaron  is  a  dream, 
Mr.  Thimblefinger  is  a  dream ;  everything  is  a  dream." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that!"  protested  Sweetest 
Susan.  "  I  meant  that  it  was  all  so  queer  that  it 
seemed  like  a  dream.  I  remember  that  you  said  so 
yourself;  and  you  know  very  well  that  you  couldn't 
persuade  mother  that  we  hadn't  been  dreaming." 

"  Well,  you  know  what  grandfather  said,"  Buster 


Johi 


in  insisted ;  "  he  said  that  when  two  or  three  people 
dream  the  same  dream,  it  is  not  a  dream,  but  a  fact." 

"  Still,  it  all  appeared  like  a  dream  to  me,"  Sweet- 
est Susan  declared. 

"  Dream !  I  say  dream !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla  indig- 
nantly. "  You  can't  fool  me ;  ef  you  wanter  fool  yo'- 
se'f  go  ahead  an'  do  it,  but  don't  come  an'  tell  me  'bout 
dreamin'  when  you  got  bofe  eyes  wide  open  an'  all 
yo'  senses  'bout  you." 

"Well,  we  are  not  dreaming  now,"  said  Buster 
[14] 


MR.    BOBBS 

John.     "  Let's  go  down  the  road  and  see  if  we  can 
find  the  little  old  man." 

"  An'  den  what?  "  inquired  Drusilla,  with  suspicion 
in  her  voice.  "  S'posen  you  fin'  'im,  den  what  you 
gwineter  do?  You  can't  eat  'im,  an'  you  can't  take 
'im  home  wid  you.  Ef  you  can't  do  nothin'  wid  'im, 
what  you  want  wid  'im?  I  bet  you  de  man  is  doin' 
mighty  well  widout  you,  an'  so  long  ez  dat's  de  case, 
what  you  want  ter  fool  wid  'im  fer?  " 

"  Oh !  come  on,  and  don't  talk  so  much,*'  said  Buster 
John  impatiently.  "  While  we  are  talking  here  he 
may  be  getting  away." 

"  I  hope  he'll  hit  you  a  crack  on  de  shins  wid  his 
walkin'-cane !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  with  great  earnest- 
ness. "  You-all  aint  got  no  mo'  business  foolin'  wid 
dat  man  dan  you  got  flyin'." 

But  Brasilia's  protests  were  overborne,  and  if  she 
went  along  it  was  through  sheer  force  of  habit,  and 
not  because  she  had  any  desire  to  go.  She  had  a 
very  vivid  remembrance  of  their  former  adventures, 
and  she  always  said  that  she'd  rather  have  the  night- 
mare every  night  than  to  go  through  them  again. 

[15] 


n 

THEY   MAKE    THE    ACQUAINTANCE    OF 
WALLY  WANDEROON 

THE  children  had  no  difficulty  whatever  in 
finding  the  little  old  man.  Indeed,  as  Dru- 
silla  suggested,  it  seemed  that  he  had  been 
waiting  for  them.  He  certainly  left  that  impression 
on  their  minds.  When  they  came  up  with  him,  he  was 
still  poking  with  his  cane  in  the  fence  corners.  He 
turned  about  when  he  heard  them  coming,  and 
laughed.  He  had  a  most  comical  countenance;  he 
seemed  to  be  always  on  the  point  of  winking  famil- 
iarly at  those  to  whom  he  talked,  but  he  never  winked. 
When  just  about  to  do  so  he  would  catch  himself,  and 
immediately  look  sober  and  serious.  This  made  his 
appearance  all  the  more  comical.  He  had  laughed  or 
smiled  so  much  that  there  were  deep  furrows  between 
his  nose  and  his  cheeks,  and  he  had  a  funny-looking 
wart  on  the  side  of  his  face,  just  above  his  chin.  Such 
a  countenance,  topped  by  a  tall  stovepipe  hat,  was 
[16] 


ACQUAINTANCE 

very  promising,  and  Sweetest  Susan  would  have 
clapped  her  hands  in  ecstasy  if  she  hadn't  been  afraid 
that  the  little  old  man  would  have  misunderstood  her 
meaning. 

He  turned  about  and  looked  at  them  very  brightly. 
"  Three  howdies  and  a  half !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Is  it 
good-morning?  " 

Sweetest  Susan  looked  at  Buster  John,  Buster  John 
looked  at  Wally  Wanderoon,  and  Drusilla  looked  at 
first  one  and  then  the  other.  As  for  Billy  Biscuit, 
who  was  the  biggest  man  in  the  crowd,  according  to 
his  own  estimation,  he  looked  at  no  one,  but  began 
to  hunt  for  a  bird's  nest. 

Finally  Buster  John  began  to  understand  what  the 
little  old  man  meant,  and  he  told  him  good-morning 
very  politely.  The  others  followed  his  example,  and 
the  little  old  man  began  to  smile  again.  "  I  thought 
it  was  a  good  morning,"  he  said ;  "  yes,  I  had  that 
idea.  I  thought,  too,  that  when  a  fellow  gives  out 
three  howdies  and  a  half,  he  ought  to  be  entitled  to  at 
least  one  good-morning  at  least." 

'*  What  do  you  mean  by  three  howdies  and  a  half?  " 
inquired  Sweetest  Susan. 

[17] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Why,  three  for  you  larger  ones,  and  a  half  for 
the  little  chap.  Suppose  I  had  given  him  a  whole 
howdy  all  by  himself — what  would  he  have  done  with 
it?  Economy  is  the  word.  Why,  when  I  was 

young "    He  paused,  waved  his  cane,  sighed,  and 

then  turned  his  attention  to  poking  and  prodding  in 
the  fence  corners. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for? "  asked  Buster 
John. 

"  Why,  it's  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world,"  re- 
plied Wally  Wanderoon.  "  I  am  looking  for  the 
Good  Old  Times  we  used  to  have." 

"  The  Good  Old  Times ! "  exclaimed  Buster  John 
in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  sir,  nothing  less.  Talk  about  gold  mines ! 
Why,  if  I  could  find  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to 
have,  I'd  be  the  richest  man  in  the  world  before  the 
end  of  the  week.  I'd  divide  'em  up  with  the  people 
I  met  in  the  road,  and  they,  in  return,  would  give  me 
everything  they  had.  Why,  I  know  men,  and  women 
too,  who  would  give  everything  in  this  world  if  they 
could  get  back  their  share  of  the  Good  Old  Times  we 
used  to  have." 

[18] 


ACQUAINTANCE 

"  Why  do  you  search  for  them  here?  "  inquired 
Buster  John,  who  was  somewhat  puzzled. 

"  Why  not  here  as  well  as  elsewhere  ?  "  answered 
the  little  old  man.  This  seemed  to  be  reasonable,  and 
Buster  John  made  no  reply.  "  More  than  that,"  the 
little  old  man  went  on,  "  if  I  could  find  'em  here,  I'd 
unfold  'em  right  before  your  eyes,  so  you  could 
see  what  they  look  like ;  I  certainly  would,  and  I 
wouldn't  charge  you  a  cent.  Oh,  they'd  be  well 
worth  seeing,  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to 
have.  The  sight  of  them  would  make  your  mouth 
water." 

"  I  dunner  what  you-all  talkin5  about,"  remarked 
Drusilla,  "  but  it  sho  would  take  sump'n  mo'  dan  ol* 
times  fer  ter  make  my  mouf  water." 

Wally  Wanderoon  looked  at  the  negro  girl  as  if 
he  wanted  to  tip  her  a  humourous  wink,  but  he  caught 
himself  just  in  time,  and,  instead  of  winking,  lifted 
his  eyebrows  so  high  that  his  tall  hat  was  in  danger 
of  tilting  off.  "It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "The 
Painter  that  painted  you  painted  us  all,  I  reckon — 
some  one  colour  and  some  another,  and  some  betwixt 
and  between." 

[19] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"My  mammy  say  dat  it  don't  make  no  diffunce 
how  black  you  is,  ef  yo'  heart  is  in  de  right  place," 
said  Drusilla  very  solemnly. 

"  Speaking  of  the  right  place,"  remarked  the  little 
old  man,  "  reminds  me  that  it  is  about  time  for  me 
to  go  home." 

"  Where  do  you  live?  "  inquired  Buster  John. 

"  Not  very  far,  if  you  count  it  by  minutes,  but  a 
considerable  step  if  you  count  it  by  miles.  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  go  with  me,"  he  said,  looking  at  all  of 
the  youngsters. 

"Can  we  come  back  when  we  choose?"  asked 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Why,  certainly ;  but  if  you  are  afraid,  you 
needn't  go." 

"  Let's  go,"  said  Buster  John  bravely. 

"  Me'll  do,"  declared  Billy  Biscuit. 

"  You-all  kin  go,"  remarked  Drusilla,  "  an'  I'll  set 
here  an'  wait  fer  you.  Ef  you  don't  come  back,  I'll 
drive  yo'  pony  home,  an'  tell  yo'  mammy  whar  I  seed 
you  last." 

"  She  doesn't  have  to  come,"  said  the  little  old  man, 
with  his  pleasant  smile.  "  She's  free  to  go  or  stay. 
[20] 


Travelling  by  the  pine  sapling. 


ACQUAINTANCE 

She  may  miss  something,  but  you  two  can  tell  her 
about  it  when  you  get  back." 

Now  Drusilla  was  perhaps  more  anxious  to  go  than 
any  of  the  others,  but  she  wanted  Sweetest  Susan  to 
beg  and  coax  her;  and  she  wanted  Buster  John  to 
insist.  Strange  to  say,  neither  one  of  them  seemed 
to  care  whether  she  went  or  stayed.  This  being  so, 
she  concluded  to  go  along  without  further  invita- 
tion. She  would  not  go,  however,  without  a  fresh 
protest.  "  Ef  I  go,"  she  said,  "  'twon't  be  kaze  I 
wanter !  it  '11  be  bekaze  I  wanter  take  keer  er  you-all, 
'specially  dat  ar  baby." 

"  Well,  come  on,  then,"  said  the  little  old  man. 
"We  haven't  far  to  go  and  not  much  time  to 
lose." 

A  panel  of  fence  was  down,  and  through  this  Wally 
Wanderoon  went,  followed  by  the  children.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  gap  there  appeared  to  be  what  is 
called  a  blind  path.  Into  this  the  little  old  man 
turned.  He  followed  it  perhaps  twenty  yards, 
and  paused  near  a  tall  pine  sapling,  which  wag 
bare  of  limbs  for  some  distance  up  the  slender 
trunk. 

[23] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"Here's  our  starting  point,"  said  Wally  Wan- 
deroon.  "  Catch  hold,  and  mind  you  don't  fall  off 
when  we  get  started  good." 

Billy  Biscuit,  as  if  he  were  used  to  making  the  trip, 
began  to  laugh  as  he  grabbed  the  little  old  man's 
coat-tails.  The  others,  following  the  example  set 
them,  caught  hold  of  the  trunk  of  the  tree.  "  Now, 
then,"  said  the  little  old  man,  "  are  you  ready?  One, 
two,  three ! " 

At  first  there  seemed  to  be  no  movement,  but  pres- 
ently the  children  saw  the  trees  and  the  ground  glid- 
ing slowly  by  them.  The  fence  which  they  had  just 
come  through  joined  in  the  movement,  and  then 
everything  seemed  to  be  going  faster.  The  trees  and 
the  woods  went  whirling  by  them ;  and  then,  all  of  a 
sudden,  they  realised  that  they,  and  not  the  fences 
and  fields,  were  moving ;  not  only  moving,  but  flying 
more  rapidly  than  a  railway  train — and  yet,  they 
were  holding  on  to  the  pine  sapling,  and  when  they 
looked  down  at  their  feet  they  seemed  to  be  standing 
perfectly  still.  When  the  trees  and  the  fields  and  the 
rest  of  the  world,  as  it  seemed  to  them,  were  flying 
by  them  so  rapidly  that  they  were  merely  blurs  on  the 
[24] 


ACQUAINTANCE 

eyesight,  Drusilla  thought  she  could  stand  it  no 
longer. 

"  I  dunner  what  gwineter  happen,"  she  said  in  a 
frightened  voice,  "  but  I  know  mighty  well  dat  I'm 
bleedze  ter  turn  loose.  My  head  done  got  ter 
swimmin',  an'  I  aint  right  well,  nohow." 

"  Shut  your  eyes,"  suggested  Wally  Walderoon. 
As  soon  as  she  did  this,  she  appeared  to  be  standing 
still.  And  in  a  half  a  minute  they  were  standing 
still;  or  rather  the  trees  and  fields  had  ceased  to  race 
by  them. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon,  "  you  are 
in  my  country.  You  may  see  some  queer  things,  but 
you  need  not  be  afraid;  there  is  nothing  to  harm 
you." 

The  first  queer  thing  that  attracted  their  attention 
was  discovered  by  Drusilla.  Looking  about  her  with 
great  interest  and  curiosity,  she  found  that  every- 
thing was  downhill.  Thus  a  tree,  which  appeared 
to  be  downhill  in  one  direction,  would  also  appear  to 
be  downhill  when  you  passed  it  and  looked  back. 

Drusilla  was  not  a  scientist,  but  she  saw  at  once 
that  something  was  wrong,  and  she  endeavoured  to  look 
[25] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

forward  to  results.  "  Ef  you  want  ter  worm  yo'se'f 
off'n  creation,  des  start  one  way,  an*  den  turn  roun' 
an*  go  back,  an'  keep  on  doin'  dataway.  Kaze  when 
you  start  downhill  you  think  it's  uphill  behime  you, 
but  when  you  turn  'roun'  an'  look  back,  it's  downhill 
befo'  an'  behime.  Now,  what  you  gwineter  do  when 
dat's  de  case?  How  you  gwineter  git  back  whar  you 
start  fum?  " 

There  was,  however,  a  very  simple  and  practical 
way  of  avoiding  the  calamity  which  Drusilla's  sagac- 
ity had  foreseen.  It  was  so  simple,  indeed,  that  she 
wondered  she  had  not  thought  of  it  herself.  She  ob- 
served that  both  Wally  Wanderoon  and  Billy  Biscuit 
were  walking  sidewise,  so  that  although  it  was  down- 
hill before  and  behind  them,  they  found  themselves 
always  on  level  ground. 

"Dey  aint  no  tellin'  what  we  gwineter  do  nex'," 
Drusilla  declared  with  some  show  of  indignation. 
"We  er  walkin'  sideways  now,  an'  I  bet  'twon't  be 
long  'fo'  we  er  gallopin'  on  our  all-fours,  er  standin' 
on  our  heads — I  bet  you  dat." 


[26] 


Ill 

THE  GOOD  OLD  TIMES 

&6^ir  T^OU  remember  when  you  first  saw  me,"  re- 
||  marked  Wally  Wanderoon,  as  he  and  the 
youngsters  walked  along  together,  "  I 
was  hunting  for  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to  have. 
No  doubt  you  wanted  to  laugh  when  I  told  you  what  I 
was  doing.  I  have  been  young  myself,  and  I  know 
how  young  people  feel  towards  old  people,  especially 
old  people  who  are  strangers  to  them.  Now,  if  you 
were  to  hear  your  grandfather  telling  about  the 
Mexican  War,  you  would  not  think  it  strange ;  in  fact, 
you  would  ask  him  to  repeat  all  he  knew  about  it; 
and  after  a  while  he  would  get  in  the  habit  of  it. 
Then,  possibly,  you  would  grow  tired  of  it,  and  the 
time  would  come  that  one  of  you  would  say  to  the 
other, '  I  hear  Grandfather  coming ;  let's  get  away  be- 
fore he  begins  about  the  Mexican  War.'  " 

Buster  John  looked  somewhat  sheepishly  at  Sweet- 
[27] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

est  Susan,  who  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Brother!  I  told  you 
someone  would  hear  you !  " 

"  No,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon ;  "  I  don't  think 
anyone  heard  him  but  you ;  but  I  knew  your  grand- 
father had  been  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  I  know,  also, 
that  he  is  growing  old.  Put  these  two  things  together 
and  it's  no  trouble  to  guess  what  the  youngsters  are 
likely  to  say.  Old  as  I  am,  I  have  been  young,  and  so 
has  your  grandfather.  Well — as  I  was  going  on  to 
say — while  he  is  sitting  back  in  his  easy  chair  talk- 
ing about  the  Mexican  War,  I  am  going  about  try- 
ing to  find  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to 
have. 

"  It's  no  easy  matter,  I  can  tell  you.  I  once  hoped 
to  find  them  in  a  lump,  as  you  may  say,  but  I  have 
given  up  that  idea.  I  know,  now,  that  if  I  find  them 
at  all,  I  shall  have  to  find  them  a  piece  at  a  time — an 
old  song  here  and  an  old  story  yonder.  Anyhow,  I 
shall  continue  to  look  for  them.  One  day  not  so  very 
long  ago,  by  the  happiest  chance,  I  found  one  of  the 
relics  of  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to  have.  You 
couldn't  guess  what  it  is  if  you  were  to  guess  for  the 
rest  of  the  week.  And  I'm  afraid  you  won't  believe 
[28] 


THE    GOOD    OLD    TIMES 

me  when  I  tell  you.  It  is  an  old-fashioned  story- 
telling machine." 

"  Why,  I  never  heard  of  anything  like  that,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  They  were  very  scarce,  and  those  who  had  them  only 
permitted  a  few  of  their  closest  friends  to  see  them. 
I  heard  of  one  gentleman,  a  very  clever  man,  too,  who 
chanced  to  be  a  little  talkative  about  the  one  he  owned 
— he  had  bought  it  from  a  Russian  peddler — and  he 
was  tried  and  hanged  as  a  partner  of  Satan.  His 
machine  was  made  like  a  hand  organ,  and  he  turned 
a  handle  when  he  wanted  it  to  tell  a  story.  Well,  well, 
he  suffered  in  a  good  cause." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  a  small  house  in  a 
clump  of  trees.  "  This,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon,  "  is 
where  I  live  when  I'm  at  home.  Come  in  and  I'll 
show  you  my  story-telling  machine.  It  is  not  a  genu- 
ine one,  it  is  only  a  make-believe,  but  it  does  very 
well." 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  in  which  they  found  them- 
selves, there  was  a  tall  piece  of  furniture  resembling 
a  narrow  cupboard.  Near  the  top  there  was  a  small 
[29] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

opening,  which  turned  out  to  be  the  orifice  through 
which  the  story  was  told.  Wally  Wanderoon  went 
to  this  cupboard  and  gave  it  a  sharp  rap  with  his 
walking-cane. 

"  Hey,  there ! "  he  cried ;  "  what  are  you  up  to  in 
there?  " 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  "  a  voice  replied ;  "  do  you 
want  to  frighten  me  to  death?  Who  are  you  and 
what  do  you  want?  " 

"  You  know  who  I  am  well  enough ;  if  it  was  feed 
time  you'd  know  what  I  wanted." 

"  Well,  you  never  seem  to  know  what  I  want,"  re- 
plied the  story-telling  machine. 

"  Why,  there's  a  man  in  there,"  said  Buster  John. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon.  "The 
man  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  story-telling  machine." 

"  And  he's  fat,"  cried  Sweetest  Susan,  whose  curi- 
osity had  prompted  her  to  look  through  a  crack  in 
the  cupboard. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  In 
the  history  of  the  world  no  lean  man  ever  told  a  pleas- 
ant story.  I  have  caught  and  pickled  this  man,  as 
you  may  say,  because  he  is  one  of  the'  old-fashioned 
[30] 


THE    GOOD    OLD    TIMES 

story-tellers.  He's  the  last  of  his  kind  so  far  as  I 
know,  and  is  one  of  the  worst.  You  wouldn't  think  it, 
but  even  here,  where  he  is  caged  and  kept  away  from 
his  kind,  he  tries  his  best  to  fall  into  modern  methods. 
You  listen  carefully,  and  you'll  see  how  he  tries  to 
imitate  the  style  of  those  who  think  that  in  telling  a 
story  they  have  to  explain  everything,  and  even  tell 
where  the  story  grew." 

Wally  Wanderoon  went  to  the  cupboard,  rapped 
on  it  sharply,  and  said,  "  Wake  up  in  there !  Shake 
yourself  together.  Here  are  some  children  who  have 
come  to  spend  the  day  with  me,  and  they  want  to  hear 
one  of  your  stories.  If  it  pleases  them  you  may  tell 
as  many  as  you  choose." 

A  shuffling  sound  was  heard  in  the  cupboard,  and 
then  the  old-fashioned  story-teller  cleared  his  throat 
and  began. 

"  In  its  original  form  the  story  that  I  am  about  to 
tell " 

"  Wait !  hold  on  there ! "  cried  Wally  Wanderoon. 
He  was  furious  with  anger.  "  Didn't  you  hear  me  say 
as  plain  as  I  could  speak,  that  we  wanted  an  old- 
fashioned  story?  " 

[31] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  I  was  simply  trying  to  explain  that  the  story  I 
am  going  to  tell  is  a  part  of  the  folklore " 

"  I  won't  have  it !  "  cried  Wally  Wanderoon,  stamp- 
ing his  feet.  "  We  want  no  prefaces,  and  no  foot- 
notes; we  don't  care  where  the  story  comes  from. 
What  am  I  feeding  you  for?  " 

"  But  you  must  remember,"  insisted  the  poor  story- 
teller, "  that  this  is  an  age  when  even  the  children 
insist  on  a  scientific " 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon,  puffing 
out  his  cheeks  with  anger.  "  Figs  and  fiddlesticks ! 
Why  do  you  want  to  try  to  show  off  in  this  way  ?  We 
come  to  you  for  a  story,  and  here  you  are  running 
about  like  a  wild  calf  in  a  meadow.  I  tell  you  I 
won't  have  it!" 

"Well,"  said  the  story-teller  with  a  long-drawn 

sigh,  "  once  upon  a  time How  does  that  suit 

you?" 

"  Fine !  "  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  That's 
the  way  to  begin  a  story.  Now  go  ahead." 


[32] 


IV 

THE    TALE    OF    JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

,  s  f^^  NCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  great  city 


o 


built  upon  a  plain.  It  had  a  very  large 
population,  but  the  great  majority  of 
its  inhabitants  were  prosperous  because  they  were 
industrious.  Of  course  some  of  the  people  were 
poor,  for  this  is  the  way  of  the  world;  but  it  fre- 
quently happens  that  poverty  is  a  greater  blessing 
than  riches.  The  inhabitants  of  this  city  were  very 
lightly  governed.  They  paid  few  tithes,  and  the 
bulk  of  those  were  expended  in  laying  out  pleasure 
grounds  and  making  other  desirable  improvements 
that  all  the  people  could  enjoy.  There  were  no 
crimes  committed,  there  were  no  disputes  of  any  mo- 
ment, and  as  a  result  cobwebs  were  growing  on  the 
door  of  the  temple  of  justice.  Such  lawyers  as  had 
begun  to  practise  in  this  city  were  compelled  to  move 
away  or  go  into  the  grocery  business. 

"  There  was  but  one  idle  fellow  in  the  city.    This 
[33] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

was  John  the  Simpleton,  who  had  been  permitted  to 
grow  up  in  idleness  because  it  was  thought  he  was 
nothing  more  than  a  half-wit.  He  was  indeed  a  queer 
character,  and  was  always  engaged  in  some  strange 
adventure.  On  one  occasion  he  volunteered  to  gild  the 
spire  of  the  Cathedral,  which  was  the  pride  of  the 
town.  He  did  a  pretty  job  of  work,  but  when  he  came 
down  he  left  his  hat  hanging  on  the  topmost  pinnacle. 
His  excuse  was  that  he  left  it  there  to  keep  the  rain 
off  the  face  of  a  saint,  whose  portrait  was  exposed  to 
the  weather.  He  made  no  charge  for  what  he  had 
done,  and  for  a  long  time  went  about  bareheaded, 
his  long  yellow  hair  blowing  about  in  the  breezes. 

"  On  one  occasion,  when  a  man  had  been  cruel  to  his 
wife,  John  the  Simpleton  passed  by  the  man's  house 
leading  a  dog.  Finding  that  this  attracted  no  atten- 
tion, he  turned  about  and  led  the  dog  up  and  down  in 
front  of  the  house.  Finally  the  good  woman  came  to 
the  door  and  asked  him  the  meaning  of  the  perform- 
ance. 

" '  I  am  a  schoolmaster,'  he  replied,  *  and  I  would 
teach  you  a  lesson.' 

"  *  What  is  the  lesson?  '  she  inquired. 
[34] 


Simpleton  beating  the  dummy  before  the  wife-beater's  house* 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

"  '  It  is  better  to  lead  a  dog  than  to  be  led  by  one. 
When  is  your  husband  about?  ' 

"  *  In  the  early  morning,'  replied  the  woman. 
*  Very  well,'  said  John  the  Simpleton.  '  To-morrow 
morning  when  you  hear  a  fuss  at  your  door,  send  him 
out  to  see  what  the  trouble  is.' 

"  So  the  next  morning,  when  the  good  woman 
heard  a  tremendous  squalling  at  the  door,  she  ran 
and  told  her  husband,  saying  she  was  afraid  to  so 
much  as  put  her  head  out  at  the  window.  The  man 
went  to  the  door  and  there  saw  John  the  Simpleton 
thwacking  a  stuffed  figure  made  in  the  semblance  of 
a  woman.  '  What  are  you  doing  there,  rascal?  ' 

"  '  Beating  my  wife,'  said  the  young  fellow.  '  I 
caught  the  disease  at  your  door.'  The  man,  angry 
and  ashamed,  made  an  effort  to  drive  the  young  fel- 
low away,  whereupon  John  the  Simpleton  fell  upon 
him  and  gave  him  a  severe  trouncing,  which  the  neigh- 
bours declared  he  well  deserved. 

"  On  another  occasion  he  went  to  the  shop  of  a  man 

who  was  known  to  give  short  weight,  especially  to 

women  and  children,  rapped  on  the  counter,  and  said 

he  wanted  a  shilling's   worth  of  butter.     Then  he 

[37] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

changed  his  mind,  and  said  he  would  prefer  bread  in- 
stead. He  received  the  bread,  and  was  going  out  when 
the  man  called  after  him.  '  Pay  me  for  my  bread,' 
he  said.  '  I  gave  you  the  butter  for  it,'  replied  John 
the  Simpleton.  '  Then  pay  me  for  the  butter,'  said 
the  man.  '  But  I  have  bought  no  butter,'  protested 
the  Simpleton.  '  Do  you  take  me  for  a  child  or  a 
woman,  that  you  try  to  swindle  me  in  this  manner?  ' 

"  The  young  fellow  spoke  in  so  loud  a  voice,  and  his 
bearing  was  so  bold,  that  the  shopkeeper  could  only 
shake  his  head,  and  warn  John  the  Simpleton  never 
to  come  into  his  place  again. 

"  But  one  day  the  inhabitants  of  this  favoured  city 
— the  birthplace  and  home  of  John  the  Simpleton — 
were  awakened  early  one  morning  by  the  woful  cries 
of  the  Mayor,  who  was  going  about  the  streets  wring- 
ing his  hands,  and  declaring  that  he  had  been  robbed 
the  night  before  of  a  large  quantity  of  gold  and 
silver.  The  people  were  horrified.  Within  the  recol- 
lection of  the  oldest  inhabitant  such  a  high-handed 
crime  had  never  before  been  committed  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  town.  There  had  been  petty  thiev- 
ing, but  the  articles  stolen  were  hardly  valuable 
[38] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

enough  to  cause  a  complaint  from  those  who  lost 
them. 

"  Among  those  attracted  by  the  cries  of  the  Mayor 
was  John  the  Simpleton.  He  followed  the  worthy  man 
about,  and  watched  him  with  so  much  interest  and  curi- 
osity that  his  example  was  followed  by  other  people, 
and  pretty  soon  the  Mayor  had  half  the  city  at  his 
heels.  He  was  a  very  dignified  official,  and  had  never 
before  been  known  to  give  way  to  his  feelings.  There 
would  have  been  a  great  sympathy  for  him  but  for  the 
antics  of  John  the  Simpleton,  who  followed  close  be- 
hind him,  but  this  queer  fellow,  who  had  discovered 
that  the  Mayor's  woe  was  no  deeper  than  his  eyelid, 
managed  to  turn  the  whole  affair  into  ridicule,  and 
before  the  procession  had  gone  a  great  way,  the  mob 
was  shouting  and  laughing  as  a  crowd  does  on  a  holi- 
day occasion.  The  Mayor  tried  hard  to  escape,  but 
wherever  he  went,  the  people,  led  by  John  the  Simple- 
ton, followed  close  at  his  heels. 

"  At  last  the  worthy  official  took  refuge  in   the 

church,  but  as  the  church  was  open  to  all,  the  crowd 

followed.    The  Mayor  endeavoured  to  escape  by  a  side 

door,  but  John  the  Simpleton  had  anticipated  this 

[39] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

movement,  and  as  the  Mayor  disappeared  behind  the 
side  door  John  beckoned  to  the  crowd,  and  they  poured 
out  into  the  street,  and  the  Mayor  found  himself  in 
the  same  case  as  before.  Seeing  that  escape  was  im- 
possible, the  Mayor  turned  on  his  heel  and  faced  the 
crowd. 

"  *  Good  people,'  he  said,  *  what  would  you  have?  ' 
"  *  Your  Honour,  we  would  hold  a  convention,'  re- 
plied John  the  Simpleton.     'Your  loss  is  our  loss. 
You  are  full  of  grief,  and  we  are  full  of  anger.    We 
desire  to  make  ourselves  heard.' 

*'  So  the  Mayor,  nothing  loth,  led  the  way  to  the 
town  hall,  and  there  a  mass  meeting  was  held.  In  this 
meeting  the  Simpleton  took  the  lead,  and  he  caused  to 
be  passed  resolutions  strongly  denouncing  the 
wretched  creature  who  had  been  so  presumptuous  as  to 
rob  the  beloved  Mayor  of  the  city  of  even  a  small  por- 
tion of  his  worldly  goods.  No  serious  effort  was  made 
to  catch  the  thief,  for  it  was  the  common  opinion  that 
the  strong  resolutions  that  had  been  adopted  at  the 
mass  meeting  would  be  sufficient  to  convince  the 
criminal  that  he  could  not  carry  on  his  nefarious  trade 
in  that  city. 

[40] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

"  But  it  turned  out  that  the  thief  was  more  heart- 
less than  the  good  citizens  supposed  any  human  being 
could  be.  In  a  very  few  days  the  town  was  alarmed 
and  indignant  at  the  announcement  that  another 
prominent  member  of  the  community  had  been  robbed 
at  dead  of  night,  at  an  hour  when  he  could  not,  in 
reason,  be  supposed  to  be  in  a  position  to  defend  his 
property.  And  then  the  old  saying  that  it  never  rains 
but  it  pours,  was  newly  illustrated.  Hardly  a  week 
passed  that  there  was  not  a  bold  robbery  committed. 
Indeed,  the  thief  was  as  busy  as  if  he  were  paid  by  the 
day  to  rob  the  rich. 

"  These  robberies  finally  grew  so  frequent  that  the 
citizens  felt  that  they  were  compelled  to  take  some 
measure  to  protect  themselves.  There  was  the  sem- 
blance of  a  guard,  and  there  were  four  watchmen  at 
the  four  gates  of  the  city,  but  the  watchmen,  as  well 
as  the  members  of  the  guard,  would  have  resigned 
their  places  before  they  would  have  regarded  any  of 
their  fellow-citizens  with  suspicion.  Yet  it  became 
necessary  for  someone  to  be  suspected  so  that  the 
guilty  might  be  brought  to  justice ;  and,  after  a  while 
it  began  to  dawn  on  the  mind  of  John  the  Sim- 
[41] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

pleton  that  he  was  suspected  to  be  the  guilty  party. 
He  had  a  very  shrewd  idea  of  the  origin  of  these  sus- 
picions, for  he  knew  that  the  Mayor  had  never  for- 
given him  for  setting  the  example  to  the  mob  on  the 
day  when  that  functionary  was  bewailing  his  losses  in 
the  public  streets. 

"  Now,  though  John  the  Simpleton  knew  of  these 
suspicions,  and  knew  where  they  came  from,  he 
seemed  to  pay  little  attention  to  them ;  in  fact  he  ap- 
peared to  care  as  little  what  was  said  about  himself  as 
he  cared  what  was  said  about  his  neighbours.  At  the 
same  time  he  made  up  his  mind  to  discover  the  thief 
if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  Other  people  might 
suspect  him,  but  he  had  his  own  suspicions.  He  had 
a  scheme  which,  by  the  aid  of  his  uncle,  who  had  just 
returned  from  the  wars,  he  promptly  carried  out. 

"  It  was  a  very  bold  scheme,  but  it  was  no  bolder 
than  the  uncle ;  and  as  for  John  the  Simpleton,  it  was 
well  known  by  those  who  had  tried  his  temper  that  he 
was  not  lacking  in  courage.  On  the  night  of  the  day 
that  the  uncle  returned  from  the  wars,  where  he  had 
been  engaged  in  fighting  the  Spaniards,  a  very  dis- 
tinguished company  was  gathered  in  the  public  room 
[42] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

of  the  largest  inn  in  the  city,  for  it  was  here  that  the 
chief  dignitaries  of  the  town,  as  well  as  the  prominent 
citizens,  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting.  They  met  here 
because  the  inn  was  a  roomy  one,  and  after  the  affairs 
of  the  city  were  discussed  they  could  join  in  the 
friendly  social  intercourse  that  was  one  of  the  chief 
characteristics  of  the  inhabitants.  Here  they  could 
sip  their  beer,  smoke  their  pipes,  and,  at  their  leisure, 
hear  the  latest  news  from  abroad  as  from  time  to  time 
it  was  brought  in  by  travellers. 

"  It  was  into  this  company  that  John  the  Simpleton 
elbowed  his  way  after  he  had  finished  his  evening 
meal.  The  disguise  that  he  had  assumed  was  com- 
plete. He  had  placed  on  his  face  a  fierce  beard  and 
mustachio,  and  had  buckled  him  round  with  a  belt 
from  which  a  long  rapier  hung.  Thus  equipped  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  mimicking  the  careless  swagger  of 
a  soldier.  He  was  tall  and  thin,  but  he  was  also 
strong,  and  he  hustled  the  company  about  with  scant 
ceremony,  as  became  a  rough  inhabitant  of  the  camps. 

"  Assuming  a  free  and  an  easy  address,  the  Simple- 
ton soon  fell  into  conversation  with  those  about  him, 
one  of  whom  chanced  to  be  the  worthy  Mayor.  '  You 
[43] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

have  a  goodly  city  here,  a  goodly  inn,  and  a  right 
jolly  landlord,'  remarked  John  the  Simpleton.  '  My 
own  companions  would  be  here  but  for  the  rumours  we 
have  heard  on  the  way.  As  it  is,  they  are  not  too 
comfortably  housed  some  furlongs  to  the  south  at  the 
River  Inn.' 

"  '  I  know  the  place,'  remarked  the  Mayor ;  '  but 
pray  tell  us  the  nature  of  the  rumours  you  have  heard 
on  the  road.' 

" '  Why,  nothing  less  than  this  goodly  city  is  in- 
fested with  a  band  of  thieves  who  ply  their  trade  not 
only  in  the  dark  hours  of  night,  but  in  the  broad  light 
of  day.' 

"  But  surely,  my  good  Captain,  your  troopers,  who 
have  doubtless  seen  service  in  the  war  with  the  Span- 
iard, are  not  afraid  of  a  gang  of  thieves  and  prowl- 
ers.' 

"  *  The  Captain  stroked  his  fierce  mustachio  and 
laughed.  *  Good  sir,'  he  said,  *  it  was  as  much  as  I 
could  do  to  persuade  my  men  to  remain  peacefully 
where  they  are.  They  were  keen  to  visit  this  place 
and  see  for  themselves  a  city  which  deserves  to  be 
raided  and  looted  by  honest  soldiers  because  of  the 
[44] 


The  Mayor,  and  John  (in  disguise),  at  the  inn. 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

willingness  with  which  the  inhabitants  submit  to  the 
daily  and  nightly  robberies  that  are  said  to  take  place. 
My  Lieutenant  of  the  Red  Guard  was  furious  when  I 
left  him,  and  to  prevent  him  from  stirring  up  a 
spirit  of  insubordination  among  my  men  I  gave  him 
permission  to  follow  me  here  within  an  hour.' 

"  *  But,  my  fine  Captain,  how  are  we  to  help  our- 
selves? In  what  way  are  we  to  catch  the  thief  who 
is  harrying  our  citizens?  Since  we  have  never  been 
pestered  in  this  way  hitherto,  we  are  not  expert  at  tak- 
ing thieves.  We  have  our  suspicions,  but  we  have  no 
proof.  Perhaps  you  will  aid  us  with  your  advice.' 

"  '  I  can  give  you  only  my  opinion,'  replied  the 
Captain,  *  and  that  is  that  the  thief  can  be  caught 
without  serious  trouble.  I  have  been  in  your  city  but 
a  short  while,  yet  I  think  it  would  be  an  easy  matter 
for  me  to  lay  my  hand  on  the  thief  within  the  next 
hour.' 

"  The  only  reply  that  was  made  to  this  remark, 
which  seemed  to  be  in  the  nature  of  a  boast,  came  from 
a  corner  where  an  honest  and  an  unpretentious 
burgher  was  enjoying  his  mug  of  beer.  '  Try  him, 
your  honour,'  said  this  burgher  to  the  Mayor.  '  Put 
[47] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

him  to  the  test ;  offer  a  reward  for  the  rogue,  and  then 
perhaps  this  honourable  Captain  will  think  it  worth 
his  while  to  discover  and  arrest  the  villain.' 

"  '  Not  so,'  said  the  Captain,  knitting  his  heavy 
brows  together.  *  Since  the  wars  are  over  my  men  and 
myself  have  found  profitable  employment  in  conveying 
treasure  from  one  city  to  another.  We  have  now  in 
charge  a  number  of  bags  of  bullion  to  be  delivered  in 
Brachen-on-the-Vee.  We  have  no  time  to  turn  aside 
to  hale  a  petty  thief  who  contents  himself  with  treas- 
ures of  small  value.' 

"  *  It  is  plain,'  remarked  the  Mayor  with  consider- 
able animation,  *  that  you  are  not  acquainted  with  our 
thief.  He  has  as  keen  an  eye  for  what  is  valuable  as 
any  man  in  the  kingdom.' 

"  There  was  a  pause  here,  and  the  Mayor  sat  with 
his  hand  on  his  fat  chin  as  if  reflecting.  Presently  he 
turned  to  the  Captain,  saying, '  What  security  do  you 
give  when  you  undertake  to  convey  treasure  from 
city  to  city? ' 

"  '  First,  I  examine  the  treasure,  and  then,  accord- 
ing to  its  value,  leave  one  of  my  jewels — a  pearl  or  a 
diamond — in  the  hands  of  my  patrons.' 
[48] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

"  There  was  a  further  silence  on  the  part  of  the 
Mayor;  and  the  four  dignitaries  of  the  city,  who  sat 
at  table  with  him,  and  the  Captain,  were  also  silent; 
but  the  plain  citizen  in  the  corner  was  very  noisy.  He 
kept  on  declaring  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  author- 
ities to  offer  a  reward  for  the  arrest  of  the  thief,  and 
that  the  whole  business  should  be  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  gallant  Captain. 

"  *  Pooh ! '  cried  the  Mayor  finally,  '  what  do  you 
know  of  affairs  of  this  kind  ?  The  thief  will  be  caught 
in  due  time,  and  all  his  booty  returned  to  the  rightful 
owners.  We  shall  catch  him,  and  if  we  have  no  proof 
he  will  be  put  on  the  rack.  A  twist  or  two  of  that  old 
rack  has  made  better  men  speak  out.' 

"  '  You  are  right,'  said  the  Captain.  « I  think  the 
thief  and  his  companions  will  be  taken  sooner  than 
they  imagine.' 

"  *  Then  you  think  this  rogue  has  assistants,  then  ?  ' 
inquired  the  Mayor. 

"  *  Assuredly,'  replied  the  pretended  Captain.    '  He 

has  assistants,  but  he  is  displeased  with  them.    He  has 

been  compelled  to  take  them  into  his  confidence  one 

after  another  in  order  to  carry  out  his  plans.    He  has 

[49] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 
four  companions,  and  he  would  willingly  get  rid  of 
them.' 

"  *  If  what  you  say  is  true,'  said  the  Mayor,  with  a 
very  serious  countenance,  *  the  matter  should  be 
looked  into  at  once.  But  first,  and  at  your  conveni- 
ence, I  should  like  to  have  a  private  conference.  There 
are  a  number  of  us  here  who  are  determined  to  place 
our  valuables  in  a  place  of  safety  until  this  rogue  and 
his  companions  are  caught,  and  I  desire  to  get  your 
advice  on  the  subject.' 

"  It  was  arranged  that  the  Mayor  should  return  to 
the  inn  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  when  the  Captain 
would  be  ready  to  confer  with  him.  By  this  time  all 
of  the  company  had  retired  except  the  four  city  dig- 
nitaries who  had  been  sitting  at  the  table  with  the 
Captain  and  the  Mayor.  They  were  whispering  to- 
gether when  John  the  Simpleton  strode  from  the  room 
twisting  his  fierce-looking  mustachio. 

"  From  the  inn,  John  the  Simpleton  returned  to  his 
own  dwelling,  where  he  had  left  the  old  soldier  who 
was  his  uncle.  This  sturdy  soldier  calmly  smoked  his 
pipe  while  his  nephew  told  him  of  all  that  had  oc- 
curred. 'They  call  you  a  simpleton,  do  they?  Well, 
[50] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

by  the  good  King  Campion !  you  are  a  lad  after  my 
own  heart,  and  what  you  propose  to  do  is  as  much  to 
my  taste  as  any  adventure  I  ever  had.  Set  the  pace, 
my  lad,  and  I'll  follow  you;  and  if  you  hear  a  neck 
crack  before  the  night  is  over  be  not  disturbed.  'Tis 
a  trick  I  learned  while  with  the  Free  Compan- 
ions." 

"  And  so,  when  the  old  soldier's  pipe  was  out,  he  put 
on  his  coat  and  belt,  girded  on  his  short  sword,  and 
keeping  step  with  his  nephew  followed  him  to  the  inn. 
They  blustered  into  the  public  room  as  became  men 
who  were  careless  of  giving  offence  to  those  unused 
to  the  ways  of  a  camp. 

"  *  They  sit  late  here,  my  Captain,'  said  the  old 
soldier,  fixing  his  bold  black  eyes  on  the  group  of 
dignitaries.  *  No  wonder  thieves  take  the  town.  I 
warrant  I  could  carry  off  the  families  of  those  who  sit 
late  at  the  inn  guzzling  beer.  We  shall  hear  strange 
tales  presently.' 

"  '  Ay,'  replied  the  Captain,  '  the  worthy  Mayor 
has  something  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  and  I  warrant 
you  there  will  be  a  scene  before  the  night  is  over.' 

"  With  that  the  two  began  to  strut  about  the  room, 
[61] 


WALLY  WANDEROON 
and  they  had  the  appearance  of  being  rough  cus- 
tomers. Finding  that  they  could  not  provoke  the  four 
dignitaries  into  a  conversation  of  any  kind  or  on  any 
subject,  the  pretended  Captain  and  his  Lieutenant  of 
the  Red  Guards  called  to  the  landlord,  engaged  an- 
other room,  and  in  this  extra  room  they  awaited  the 
return  of  the  Mayor. 

"  They  had  not  long  to  wait.  This  worthy  official 
was  in  quite  a  state  of  mind,  and  he  was  so  zealous  for 
the  good  name  of  his  city  that  he  was  beforehand  in 
knocking  at  the  Captain's  door.  He  was  directed  by 
the  landlord  to  the  room  that  had  been  reserved  for 
the  Lieutenant,  and  his  surprise  was  great  when  he 
discovered  that  the  Captain  had  a  companion,  though 
he, made  no  objection  when  he  was  told  that  this  com- 
panion was  the  Lieutenant  of  the  troop  which  had 
charge  of  the  treasure  that  from  time  to  time  was  en- 
trusted to  the  captain's  care. 

"  *  A  very  worthy  man,  I  have  no  doubt,'  said  the 
Mayor  with  a  patronising  air,  *  and  his  presence  is 
timely.  There  is  so  much  uncertainty  here,  and  the 
people  have  been  so  sadly  demoralised  by  the  opera- 
tions of  this  thief,  that  a  few  of  us  have  concluded  to 
[52] 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

have  our  valuables  transported  to  a  place  of  safety. 
I  have  a  brother  in  a  neighbouring  town  who  will 
gladly  take  charge  of  these  valuables  once  they  are 
in  his  hands.  As  the  governor  of  the  town,  I  am  truly 
sorry  to  set  such  an  example ;  but  even  an  official  must 
needs  take  care  of  his  own.  Once  the  thief  is  caught 
and  disposed  of,  and  property  is  safe,  I  shall  engage 
you  to  convey  the  treasure  back.' 

"  *  As  to  this  thief,'  said  the  pretended  Captain, 
'  have  you  no  idea  as  to  his  identity  ?  ' 

"  *  We  know  him  well  enough,'  said  the  Mayor ; 
'  but  we  have  no  proof  against  him.  He  is  called 
John  the  Simpleton,  but  my  opinion  is  that  he  is  a 
much  shrewder  fellow  than  he  pretends  to  be.  But 
we  shall  see.' 

"  « I  saw  the  Simpleton  as  I  entered  the  town,'  re- 
plied the  pretended  Captain,  '  and  I  think  you  are 
correct  in  your  opinion  of  him.  Conclude  your  bar- 
gain with  my  Lieutenant  here.  I  have  a  little  busi- 
ness with  my  friend  the  landlord.' 

"  With  that  the  Captain  went  down  the  narrow 
stairway,  entered  the  public  room,  and  seated  himself 
at  the  table  with  the  four  dignitaries,  who  were  await- 
[53] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

ing  the  Mayor.  *  It  is  all  up  with  you,  my  friends,' 
he  said,  slapping  the  table  with  his  hands. 

"  '  What  do  you  mean  ?  '  they  cried,  rising  from 
their  seats  in  great  disorder. 

"  '  Easy !  Speak  softly.  The  Mayor  declares  that 
you  gentlemen  are  the  robbers,  and  that  he  has  toler- 
ated your  practices  to  avoid  a  scandal  in  the  town."* 

"  c  The  villain !  Why,  he  is  the  thief — he  is  the 
rogue.  Where  is  he  ?  bring  us  to  him,  and  you'll  soon 
see  whether  we  are  the  thieves ! ' 

"  '  Softly ! '  said  the  Captain.  «  This  is  a  business 
that  should  be  done  quietly.  You  have  families ;  the 
Mayor  has  a  family.  There  is  no  need  for  making  an 
outcry.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  prevent  the  Mayor 
from  having  you  arrested;  that  is  his  purpose,  as  he 
says.' 

'*  This  sort  of  talk  was  not  calculated  to  soothe  the 
dignitaries.  Their  cheeks  were  puffed  out  with  indig- 
nation, and  they  paced  up  and  down  the  room  de- 
nouncing the  Mayor  in  the  roundest  terms.  The  noise 
they  made  attracted  the  attention  of  the  landlord,  and 
passers-by,  perceiving  that  something  unusual  was  oc- 
curring, crowded  around  the  door.  Standing  there, 
[54] 


Denouncing  the  Mayor  as  a  rogue. 


JOHN    THE    SIMPLETON 

their  astonishment  was  great  when  they  heard  the 
associates  of  the  Mayor  denouncing  him  as  a  rogue. 
The  crowd  continued  to  grow,  and  by-and-bye  the 
pressure  of  curiosity  became  so  great  that  the  public 
room  of  the  inn  became  filled  with  citizens  who  heard 
the  dignitaries  denouncing  the  Mayor  as  a  most  un- 
mitigated rogue  and  villain. 

"  When  the  crowd  had  filled  the  room,  the  Captain 
made  his  way  up  the  stair,  went  to  the  room  where  the 
Mayor  was  bargaining  with  the  Lieutenant,  and  beck- 
oned to  him.  '  Here  is  a  pretty  howdy-do,'  he  said ; 
'  come  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  listen.  Your 
friends  in  the  taproom  are  making  short  work  of 
your  reputation.' 

"  And  such  was  the  case.  When  the  Mayor  heard 
the  denunciations  of  his  friends,  whose  anger  was  at 
white  heat,  he  made  an  effort  to  escape,  but  the  Lieu- 
tenant was  of  another  mind.  '  You  will  remain  with 
me,  my  friend,'  he  said,  laying  his  hand  somewhat 
heavily  on  the  shoulder  of  the  official. 

"  By  that  time,  John  the  Simpleton  had  taken  off 
his  beard  and  his  fierce  mustachios,  and  in  a  very  few 
words  he  explained  to  the  assembled  citizens  the  mean- 
[57] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

ing  of  the  scene  which  they  were  witnessing.  The 
Mayor  and  the  four  officials  were  at  once  placed  under 
arrest,  and  the  next  day  a  public  meeting  was  held,  at 
which  John  the  Simpleton  was  chosen  Mayor.  He  not 
only  saw  that  the  thieves  were  properly  punished,  but 
he  brought  about  a  great  many  reforms  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  city,  so  that  the  people  grew  more  pros- 
perous than  ever.  And  when  John  the  Simpleton  died 
they  built  him  a  large  monument,  and  to  this  day  it 
stands  there  as  a  memorial  to  his  wisdom  and  justice." 


[58] 


V 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  CRYSTAL  BELL 

C£T  "IT  TELL,    how    did    you    like    the     old- 
Y/Y/     fashioned     story?"     inquired     Wally 
Wanderoon,     when     the     story-teller 
began  to  snore,  as  a  sign  that  the  tale  was  finished. 

"  I  liked  it  pretty  well,"  replied  Buster  John,  "  only 
I  don't  see  why  they  didn't  have  some  fighting,  espe- 
cially when  a  real  soldier  was  brought  in." 

"  It  may  be  a  good  story,"  remarked  Sweetest 
Susan,  "  but  it  isn't  the  kind  I  like." 

"  I  speck  it's  'bout  ez  good  ez  any  un  um,"  said 
Drusilla.  "  All  dem  kind  er  tales  is  a  way  off  fum 
me.  I  don't  keer  no  mo'  'bout  one  er  de  folks  dan 
what  I  does  'bout  de  yuthers." 

"  What  sort  of  a  story  do  you  like  ?  "  inquired 
Wally  Wanderoon,  turning  to  Sweetest  Susan.  The 
little  girl  blushed  and  hung  her  head.  "  I  mean  the 
story  wan't  the  kind  I  like  best.  I'm  glad  there  was 
no  fighting  in  it." 

[59] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 
"Oho!"  cried  Buster  John;  "that's  just  like  a 
girl." 

"  If  I  had  my  choice,"  said  Sweetest  Susan,  "  I  pre- 
fer a  fairy  story,  and  then,  next  to  that,  the  animal 
stories  that  Aunt  Minervy  Ann  sometimes  tells." 

Wally  Wanderoon  rapped  on  the  box  or  cage. 
"  Wake  up  in  there !  Stir  your  stumps !  What  about 
a  fairy  story?  " 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  the  story-teller.  "Why, 
fairy  stories  have  been  out  of  fashion  so  long  that  I've 
almost  forgotten  how  they  go.  I  used  to  hear  my 
grandmother  tell  them  when  I  was  a  wee  bit  of  a  chap, 
and  they  were  all  different  from  those  that  I  after- 
wards read  in  books.  I  wish  I  could  remember  them. 
I  have  one  in  mind  now,  but  it  is  very  slight ;  indeed, 
I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  worth  telling." 

"  Tell  it !  tell  it !  "  cried  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  Good 
gracious !  why  do  you  hesitate  ?  Do  you  expect  me  to 
board  and  lodge  you  for  nothing?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  plenty  of  boards  all  around  me — but 
do  you  call  this  place  a  lodging?  " 

"  It  is  better  than  no  shelter,"  replied  Wally  Wan- 
deroon. "  You've  been  wailing  for  a  chance  to  tell 
[60] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

stories,  and  now  that  I  have  gone  out  on  the  highway 
and  gathered  up  what  you  might  call  a  mixed  audi- 
ence, here  you  are  complaining,  and  making  excuses. 
Why  don't  you  say  your  throat  is  sore,  as  the  ladies 
do  when  they  are  asked  to  sing?  " 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  of  that,"  replied  the  story- 
teller. "  It  is  worth  remembering.  But  I  have  no 
objection  to  telling  the  story,  provided  no  one  will 
make  remarks  about  it  when  it  is  finished. 

"  Once  there  lived  in  a  far  country  a  little  girl 
named  Lizette " 

"  Now  that  sounds  something  like  it ! "  exclaimed 
Wally  Wanderoon  with  enthusiasm.  "  It  reminds  me 
of  the  Good  Old  Times  we  used  to  have.  Go  right 
ahead  in  that  strain,  and  I'll  double  your  wages." 
So  the  story-teller  began  again — 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  far  country,  there  lived  a 
little  girl  named  Lizette.  She  was  a  very  sweet  little 
girl,  bright,  clever,  and  kind-hearted.  Her  father  and 
mother  were  very  poor.  In  the  cold  weather  they  eked 
out  a  scanty  living  by  gathering  the  dead  branches 
of  trees  in  the  forest,  and  selling  them  to  their  more 
[61] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

prosperous  neighbours,  who  used  them  as  fuel.  In  the 
spring  Lizette's  father  and  mother  gathered  herbs 
and  simples  and  sold  them  to  the  apothecary  in  the 
neighbouring  village.  In  the  summer  they  helped 
their  neighbours  with  their  crops,  and  in  the  fall  they 
helped  to  gather  grapes. 

"  This  was  the  season  that  Lizette  loved,  for  at  that 
time  all  the  youths  and  maidens  assembled  in  the  vine- 
yards and  played  and  sang  even  while  they  were  at 
work.  And  at  the  close  of  the  day,  especially  when 
the  round  moon  was  peeping  at  them  through  the 
trees,  Merry  Hans,  of  Hendon,  would  play  on  his 
flute  while  the  others  danced.  At  such  times  it  fre- 
quently happened  that  the  lords  and  ladies  from  the 
castles  near  by  would  come  in  their  fine  coaches  and 
watch  the  merry-making. 

"  All  the  workers  in  the  fields  and  vineyards  were 
poor,  but  Lizette's  father  and  mother  were  the 
poorest  of  all.  They  were  the  poorest,  but  they  were 
just  as  happy  as  any  of  the  rest,  for  they  had  their 
pretty  little  daughter,  they  had  their  health,  and  they 
had  good  appetites,  and  sound  sleep  visited  them  when 
the  day  was  over.  They  had  few  troubles  and  no  sor- 


Dancing  to  the  music  of  Hans's  flute. 


THE    CRYSTAL   BELL 

rows,  save  as  they  were  called  upon  to  sympathise  with 
such  of  their  neighbours  as  had  illness  or  death  in  the 
house. 

"  Never  believe  that  poverty  means  unhappiness  or 
sour  discontent.  It  is  the  poor  who  are  generous  and 
charitable,  and  it  is  the  honest  poor  who  have  the 
soundest  sleep  and  the  healthiest  minds.  Thus  it  was 
with  the  father  and  mother  of  Lizette.  They  were 
not  only  contented,  but  they  were  thankful  their  con- 
dition was  no  worse.  But  as  their  little  daughter  grew 
older  and  more  beautiful  they  often  wished  that  they 
were  able  to  give  her  the  accomplishments  that  would 
fit  her  beauty  and  her  brightness. 

"  When  she  heard  them  expressing  their  regrets 
that  they  were  too  poor  to  do  as  much  for  her  as  they 
could  wish,  she  would  shake  her  head  and  laugh,  say- 
ing, *  If  I  had  all  the  accomplishments  you  desire  me 
to  have,  I  am  afraid  I  should  be  discontented  here. 
It  is  better  as  it  is.  I  can  sing  as  loud  and  dance  as 
long  as  any  of  the  children ;  I  have  a  good  frock  for 
Sunday ;  and  though,  as  we  know,  the  times  are  hard, 
it  is  not  often  that  I  am  hungry.' 

"  The  father  and  mother  said  nothing,  but  they 
[65] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

thought  to  themselves  that  the  sweet  disposition  of 
their  child  was  only  another  reason  why  she  should 
fare  better  than  they  had  fared.  Old  people,  as  you 
will  discover,  live  life  over  again  in  the  lives  of  their 
children.  But  these  old  people  had  no  way  to  carry 
out  their  desires.  They  could  only  sigh  when  they 
thought  that  their  lovely  child  would  have  to  follow 
in  their  footsteps.  They  sighed,  but  they  were  not 
unhappy.  Everything  would  be  as  a  higher  Power 
willed,  and  with  this  they  were  content. 

"  Meanwhile  Lizette  was  growing  more  beautiful 
day  by  day.  The  colour  of  the  sky  was  reflected  in 
her  eyes,  and  the  sunshine  was  caught  and  held  in  the 
meshes  of  her  golden  hair.  Her  frock  was  scanty  and 
coarse,  but  somehow  she  wore  her  ragged  frock  and 
her  wooden  shoes  in  a  way  that  made  one  forget  these 
signs  of  poverty. 

"  The  young  girl  enjoyed  the  singing  and  the 
dancing  when  the  grapes  were  gathered;  indeed,  her 
feet  were  the  nimblest,  and  her  voice  the  sweetest ;  but 
her  greatest  pleasure  was  to  ramble  about  in  the  great 
forest  near  which  she  lived.  The  opportunity  for  this 
came  on  Sunday  afternoons  and  on  the  feast  days  of 
[66] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

the  saints.  At  such  times  she  could  always  be  found 
in  the  forest,  and  here  she  was  at  home  in  the  truest 
sense.  She  talked  to  the  trees  in  a  familiar  way,  and 
she  was  sure  they  understood  her,  for  their  boughs 
would  wave  and  their  leaves  flutter  when  she  spoke  to 
them ;  and  when  a  sudden  storm  came  up  they  would 
shelter  her  with  their  foliage.  She  knew  the  birds, 
and  the  birds  knew  her,  and  they  were  so  fond  of  her 
that  they  never  made  any  loud  outcry  when  she  came 
near  their  nests.  They  had  known  her  ever  since  she 
could  toddle  about,  for  she  used  to  wander  in  the 
forest  even  when  she  was  very  small. 

"  Indeed,  the  forest  had  been  her  nurse.  When  her 
father  and  mother,  in  earning  their  scanty  living, 
were  compelled  to  go  away  from  home,  they  always 
went  away  satisfied  that  she  would  be  cared  for  in  some 
way.  Left  alone,  she  would  toddle  off  into  the  woods, 
and  when  she  grew  tired  of  looking  at  the  birds  and 
the  big  butterflies  that  fluttered  over  the  wild  flowers, 
she  would  stretch  herself  on  the  grass  under  the  shel- 
tering arms  of  a  wild  thorn,  or  in  a  bower  made  by 
the  woodbine,  and  there  sleep  as  sweetly  and  as 
soundly  as  if  she  were  rocked  in  the  richest  of  cradles. 
[67] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

As  she  grew  older  she  continued  to  ramble  in  the 
forest.  In  some  mysterious  way  she  seemed  to  absorb 
its  freshness  and  its  beauty,  and  she  imbibed  the  inno- 
cence of  the  wild  creatures  who  came  to  know  her  as 
one  of  their  companions.  And  as  she  grew  in  beauty 
she  grew  in  strength,  and  her  strength  gave  her  gen- 
tleness. Her  eyes  shone  with  dewy  tenderness,  and  the 
Story  they  told  could  be  understood  even  by  a 
wounded  bird  that  lay  panting  in  her  path,  or 
by  any  creature  that  was  seeking  refuge  or  suc- 
cour. 

"  One  day — it  was  in  the  opening  month  of  spring 
— while  Lizette  was  rambling  about  in  her  beloved 
forest  admiring  the  flowers  that  were  beginning  to 
bloom,  and  making  believe  to  catch  the  butterflies, 
though  every  butterfly  in  the  forest  knew  better  than 
that — she  saw  a  very  large  one  hovering  near  her. 
More  than  once  she  reached  out  her  hand  to  take  it, 
but  it  was  always  just  out  of  reach.  It  was  the  largest 
and  most  beautiful  butterfly  she  had  ever  seen.  It  had 
tremendous  wings,  marked  in  black  and  gold,  though 
when  the  sun  shone  on  them  the  black  changed  to 
purple  in  the  light. 

[68] 


Lizette  and  the  old  woman. 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

"  Something  in  the  movements  of  this  butterfly 
compelled  her  to  watch  it,  and  after  a  while  she 
thought  it  was  acting  in  a  very  singular  way.  When 
she  went  forward  the  butterfly  seemed  to  be  contented, 
but  when  she  paused  or  turned  aside  from  the  course 
in  which  she  had  been  going,  it  fluttered  about  her 
head  and  face  and  played  such  pranks  that  anyone 
but  the  tender  Lizette  would  have  been  annoyed. 
More  than  once  she  playfully  tried  to  catch  it,  but  at 
such  times  it  was  always  just  out  of  reach. 

"  Knowing  the  birds  and  the  butterflies  better  than 
most  people,  Lizette  came  to  the  conclusion  after 
a  while  that  this  particular  butterfly  meant  something 
by  its  antics,  so  she  went  in  the  direction  which  it 
seemed  to  desire  her  to  go.  Flying  before  her  and 
darting  about,  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  but 
always  leading  in  one  direction,  the  butterfly  went  far 
into  the  forest.  And  presently  Lizette  forgot  all 
about  the  butterfly,  for  there  before  her,  lying  prone 
on  the  ground,  was  an  old  woman.  She  seemed  to  be 
very  ill  or  dying,  and  she  presented  a  very  pitiable 
spectacle.  Her  grey  hair  was  hanging  from  under 
her  head-covering,  and  her  clothing  was  nothing  but 
[71] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

a  collection  of  patches.  She  was  groaning  and 
moaning,  and  appeared  to  be  in  a  terrible 
plight. 

"  As  soon  as  she  saw  the  deplorable  condition  of  the 
old  woman,  and  heard  her  moans  and  groans,  Lizette 
ran  forward,  kneeled  on  the  ground  beside  the  unfor- 
tunate creature,  stroked  her  hair  away  from  her  face, 
and  tried  to  find  out  what  the  trouble  was. 

"  The  old  woman  opened  her  eyes  and  made  a  hide- 
ous face  at  the  young  girl.  '  You  are  trying  to  rob 
me,'  she  cried,  c  and  you  are  over-young  to  be  a 
thief.' 

"  '  I  rob  you,  grandmother ! '  exclaimed  Lizette, 
blushing  at  the  unexpected  charge.  Then,  remember- 
ing the  pitiable  condition  of  the  old  woman,  she  said, 
'  We  will  talk  about  it  when  you  are  better.  First  tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is.'  She  took  the  old  woman's 
head  in  her  lap,  in  spite  of  the  ugly  faces  she  made, 
and  did  her  best  to  soothe  and  comfort  her. 

"  But  the  old  woman  would  not  be  soothed.     She 

continued  to  charge  Lizette  with  robbing  her,  and 

tried  to  drive  her  away.     But  the  young  girl  was  too 

tender-hearted  to  be  driven.     She  could  hardly  re- 

[72] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

strain  her  tears  at  the  repeated  charges  of  the  old 
woman,  but  she  continued  to  do  the  best  she  could  for 
her,  which  was  very  little,  since  the  poor  old  creature 
refused  to  say  where  she  was  hurt  or  how.  Between 
her  moans  and  groans  she  made  faces  at  Lizette,  con- 
tinued to  call  her  a  thief,  and  did  everything  she 
could  to  drive  her  away. 

"  But  the  child  would  not  leave  her.  She  swallowed 
her  mortification  the  best  she  could,  and  continued  to 
minister  to  the  old  woman,  although  she  knew  not  what 
to  do. 

"  Finally  she  thought  she  saw  a  change  come  over 
the  old  woman's  face.  Her  features  grew  more  com- 
posed, and  it  was  high  time,  for  when  her  counte- 
nance was  puckered  up  with  pain,  or  when  she  was 
making  grimaces  at  Lizette,  she  was  not  pretty  by 
any  means.  She  ceased  to  groan  and  moan,  and  pres- 
ently when  her  countenance  was  smoothed  out,  and  the 
wrinkles  had  disappeared,  she  was  a  very  pleasant- 
looking  old  woman. 

"  Wonderful  to  relate,  'she  grew  younger  as  Li- 
zette caressed  her.  Her  hair  ceased  to  be  grey,  the 
patches  disappeared  from  her  clothes,  her  withered 
[73] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

cheeks  and  hands  filled  out  and  became  plump,  and 
when  she  arose  to  her  feet,  which  she  did  in  no  long 
time,  she  was  as  beautiful  as  a  dream.  Her  hair, 
which  had  seemed  to  be  grey,  shone  like  spun  silver, 
and  her  clothing,  which  had  seemed  so  old  and  ragged, 
glittered  in  the  sunshine  like  satin. 

"  '  Oh,  how  could  I  think  that  one  so  beautiful  was 
old  and  ugly  ! '  cried  Lizette. 

"  '  Stranger  things  than  that  happen  every  day,' 
replied  the  beautiful  creature.  '  I  was  old  and  ugly 
when  I  caused  you  to  be  brought  here,  but  now  I  am 
what  your  good  heart  has  made  me ;  this  is  what  your 
kindness  has  done.' 

"  '  But  you  called  me  a  thief,'  said  Lizette,  blush- 
ing at  the  remembrance  of  the  harsh  things  the  pre- 
tended old  woman  had  said  about  her. 

" '  My  dear,  that  was  the  result  of  a  bargain  I  had 
made.  We  have  our  little  disputes  and  differences  in 
the  country  that  is  all  about  you,  but  which  you  are 
not  permitted  to  see.  I,  for  one,  have  been  watching 
you  since  your  birth,  and  when  I  saw  you  the  other 
day  tenderly  nursing  a  poor  wounded  butterfly  which 
had  been  chilled  by  the  night  air,  I  said  that  you 
[74] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

were  as  good  as  you  are  beautiful.'  At  this  Lizette 
blushed  again,  but  this  time  from  pleasure.  '  The  re- 
mark was  overheard  by  a  friend  of  mine  who  has  a 
very  good  disposition,  but  -who  is  somewhat  suspicious 
of  the  good  qualities  that  are  sometimes  ascribed  to 
mortals. 

"  *  She  has  a  good  deal  of  power,  too,  this  friend 
of  mine,  for  some  day,  the  day  when  the  moon  changes 
at  seven  minutes  past  seven  o'clock  on  Friday,  she  will 
be  the  queen  of  our  small  kingdom.  And  so  when  I 
insisted  that  you  were  as  good  as  you  are  beautiful 
she  proposed  a  test.  This  test  is  what  you  have  just 
witnessed.  I  became  an  old  woman,  and  it  was  part  of 
the  test  that  I  should  do  my  best  to  make  you  angry. 
I  was  to  try  to  frighten  you  with  my  grimaces,  and 
I  was  to  call  you  a  thief,  and  all  sorts  of  ugly  names, 
and  if  you  had  gone  away  in  a  fit  of  anger  I  should 
have  been  compelled  to  remain  an  old  woman  and  go 
about  in  rags  for  five  and  two  years. 

"  '  You  see  how  much  I  trusted  to  your  sweet  temper 

and  your  kind  heart.     I  was  a  little  frightened  for 

myself  when  you  were  about  to  cry,  but  I  soon  saw 

that  your  good  heart  would  triumph  over  your  pride. 

[75] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

It  was  a  trial  for  you,  and,  as  a  reward,  I  have  some- 
thing for  you." 

"  From  under  her  shining  mantle  she  drew  a  tiny 
casket,  covered  with  rich-looking  cloth,  plush  or  vel- 
vet. Touching  a  spring,  the  lid  of  the  casket  flew 
up,  disclosing  a  crystal  bell,  which  was  suspended 
from  a  little  rod  of  gold,  the  two  ends  of  which  rested 
on  the  inner  frame  of  the  casket.  It  was  a  beautiful 
bell  in  a  lovely  setting.  It  glistened  in  the  sun  like  a 
large  diamond,  and  in  that  day  there  was  no  jeweller 
so  expert  that  he  could  have  told  it  was  not  a  diamond. 

"  '  This  bell,'  said  the  fairy— Lizette  had  already 
recognised  the  beautiful  creature  as  a  fairy  whose 
good  deeds  the  older  people  were  always  praising — 
'  is  a  magic  bell.  It  has  no  clapper,  and  yet  it  will 
ring.  There  is  a  little  hammer  in  the  bottom  of  the 
casket,  and  this  will  rise  and  strike  the  bell  when  the 
time  has  come  to  warn  you  of  some  danger  that 
threatens  you  or  those  you  love.  I  have  here  a  chain 
for  the  casket,  and  you  must  wear  it  always  around 
your  neck.' 

"  Lizette's  heart  was  so  full  of  gratitude  that  she 
knew  not  what  to  say;  but  her  feelings  shone  in  her 
[76] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

beautiful  eyes,  and  the  good  fairy  understood  her  just 
as  well  as  if  she  had  spoken  in  the  most  eloquent 
manner.  *  I  will  wear  it  next  my  heart,'  said  the 
young  girl  when  she  had  found  her  voice, '  and  I  shall 
remember  your  great  kindness  always.  I  do  not 
know  what  I  have  done  to  deserve  it.' 

"  '  Do  you  remember  a  time  when  you  found  a  but- 
terfly caught  in  a  spider's  web?  I'm  sure  you  do, 
for  it  was  not  so  very  long  ago.  The  spider  was  a 
very  large  and  fierce  one,  and  he  would  have  made 
short  work  of  the  poor  butterfly,  entangled  as  it  was 
in  the  strong  web.  You  remember,  too,  how  carefully 
you  released  the  butterfly,  and  how  tenderly  you 
handled  the  poor  thing  when  once  it  was  free  from 
the  web.  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  there 
was  no  butterfly  in  the  web,  and  no  spider  to  devour 
her.  What  seemed  to  be  a  butterfly  was  no  other  than 
myself,  and  the  spider  was  an  unfriendly  fairy,  who 
lives  under  another  queen,  and  who,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  has  taken  a  strong  dislike  to  the  fairies  who 
inhabit  this  wood. 

"  '  You  will  think  it  strange  that  a  fairy  who  can 
change  her  shape  at  will  should  remain  a  butterfly 
[77] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

when  caught  in  a  spider's  web.  But  the  most  gifted 
fairy  cannot  change  her  shape  when  she  is  brought 
in  contact  with  things  that  perish.  You  tried  to  kill 
the  spider ;  and  it  would  have  been  a  good  thing  for 
both  of  us  if  you  had  succeeded ;  but,  at  any  rate,  you 
rescued  me,  and,  since  you  have  stood  the  required 
test,  I  think  you  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  ugly- 
tempered  fairy  who  took  the  shape  of  a  spider  to 
destroy  me. 

" '  You  will  have  trials,  and  you  will  be  alarmed, 
but  you  must  remember  all  the  time  that  nothing  but 
unselfishness  and  innocence  will  preserve  you.  I  do 
not  say  that  you  will  get  everything  you  desire,  be- 
cause that  would  be  impossible  if  you  become  proud 
or  vain  or  ambitious,  but  if  you  continue  to  be  good 
and  charitable  and  modest  you  will  have  what  is  best 
for  you  in  this  world.' 

'"I  am  sure,'  said  Lizette,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
'  that  I  already  have  more  than  I  deserve,  since  I  have 
your  friendship.  I  ask  nothing  more  than  to  be  as 
I  have  been,  and  to  continue  to  deserve  the  good  opin- 
ion of  my  friends  and  the  Little  People  to  whom  you 
belong.' 

[78] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

"  The  good  fairy  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  rose 
from  the  ground,  her  garments  shining  with  all  the 
colours  of  the  rainbow,  and  her  hair  shining  like  the 
rays  of  the  harvest  moon.  *  Remember  the  crystal 
bell,'  she  said  as  she  floated  upward,  and  her  voice 
sounded  like  a  strain  of  beautiful  music  heard  from 
afar.  *  Heed  its  warnings ;  but  when  it  strikes  as 
the  chimes  do,  remember  that  good  luck  is  waiting  in 
the  road  for  you.' 

"  The  beautiful  fairy  rose  higher  in  the  air,  and 
began  to  wave  the  corners  of  her  rich  mantle,  and  in 
a  moment  her  shape  had  changed  to  that  of  the  but- 
terfly that  had  led  Lizette  to  the  old  woman  in  the 
forest,  and  the  corners  of  the  mantle  were  the  butter- 
fly's wings.  She  floated  downward  again,  and, 
circling  playfully  around  the  young  girl's  head, 
touched  her  lightly  on  the  cheek  with  her  brilliant 
wings,  and  Lizette  knew  that  it  was  intended  for  a 
caress. 

"  Circling  higher  and  higher  the  fairy  disappeared 

in    the    forest,    and   Lizette    standing   in    the    path, 

and  looking  after  her  benefactor,  felt  that  she  had 

been  dreaming.     Indeed,  she  would  have  been  certain 

[79] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

it  was  all  a  dream,  but  for  the  fact  that  she  could  feel 
the  casket  in  her  bosom. 

"  And  yet,  while  she  was  talking  to  the  fairy, 
everything  that  happened  seemed  to  be  perfectly  nat- 
ural. She  was  somewhat  surprised,  of  course,  but  no 
more  so  than  she  had  often  been  at  the  various  happen- 
ings in  the  everyday  world  around  her.  But,  now  that 
it  was  all  over,  and  she  had  time  to  reflect  over  it,  her 
astonishment  knew  no  bounds.  She  wondered,  too,  if 
she  had  thanked  the  good  fairy  in  the  proper  manner, 
and  then  she  remembered  that  the  words  she  wanted 
to  say  had  refused  to  come  at  her  bidding,  and  she 
thought,  with  a  feeling  of  shame,  that  the  fairy,  who 
had  been  so  kind,  must  look  upon  her  as  very  stupid. 

"  In  spite  of  this  feeling,  however,  she  went  home 
feeling  very  happy.  She  ran  part  of  the  way,  so 
eager  was  she  to  tell  her  father  and  mother  of  her 
good  fortune.  Lizette's  story  was  hard  to  believe, 
but  then  the  old  people  had  heard  of  fairies  all  their 
lives.  More  than  that,  it  was  easier  to  believe  things 
in  those  days  than  it  is  now.  Nevertheless,  the  father 
and  mother  sat  by  the  hearth  that  night  a  long  time 
after  their  daughter  had  gone  to  bed,  and  wondered, 
[80] 


The  beautiful  fairy  rose  higher  in  the  air,  and  began  to 
wave  the  corners  of  her  rich  mantle,  and  in  a  moment  her 
shape  had  changed  to  that  of  the  butterfly  that  had  led  Lizette 
to  the  old  woman  in  the  forest. 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

as  parents  will,  whether  the  vision  their  child  had  seen 
was  not  an  evil  spirit.  Even  the  best-educated  peo- 
ple had  some  decided  views  about  evil  spirits  in  those 
days,  and  among  those  who  were  ignorant  such  ideas 
were  as  real  as  any  belief  they  had.  Lizette's  father 
was  seriously  inclined  to  take  the  casket,  bell,  and  all, 
and  bury  it  deep  in  the  ground,  so  that  the  spell,  if 
it  was  a  spell,  could  do  their  daughter  no  harm.  But 
the  mother,  more  practical  in  her  views,  refused  to 
listen  to  this.  She  argued  that  if  the  vision  Lizette 
had  seen  was  an  evil  spirit,  it  would  be  useless  to  try 
to  escape  the  charm  that  had  been  laid  on  her,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  Lizette  had  really  seen  a  good 
fairy,  it  could  not  help  matters  to  bury  her  gift. 

"  Nothing  of  all  this  talk  was  told  to  their  daugh- 
ter, and  the  young  girl  never  knew  how  near  she  was 
to  losing  the  precious  gift  of  the  fairy.  She  dreamed 
the  most  beautiful  dreams  while  she  was  sleeping,  but 
when  she  awoke,  she  heard  the  crystal  bell  sounding  a 
warning.  She  threw  on  her  clothes  in  a  hurry,  and 
all  the  while,  she  was  dressing,  the  bell  continued  to 
strike.  Just  as  she  was  ready  to  help  her  mother 
with  breakfast,  she  heard  a  loud  knocking  at  their 
[83] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

humble  door,  and  when  the  door  was  opened,  she 
heard  the  voice  of  an  old  woman  asking  her  mother 
if  she  had  a  daughter.  Peeping  through  a  crack  in 
her  own  door,  Lizette  saw  the  old  woman,  and  she 
was  as  ugly  a  hag  as  one  would  wish  to  see  in  a  day's 
journey.  Her  face  held  a  thousand  wrinkles,  her 
skin  was  yellow,  and  two  of  her  teeth  protruded  from 
her  upper  lip  like  the  tusks  of  some  wild  animal. 

"  '  Where,  then,  is  this  daughter  of  yours  ?  '  the 
old  crone  asked  harshly. 

"  *  She  is  at  hand  when  those  who  have  the  right 
desire  to  see  her,'  replied  Lizette's  mother.  '  I  will 
answer  for  her,  and  you  may  speak  to  me.' 

"  '  She  will  be  spoken  to  by  those  who  have  some- 
thing more  than  the  right,'  replied  the  old  woman, 
with  a  cackling  laugh.  '  Our  good  Prince  Palermon, 
who  was  riding  through  the  forest  yesterday,  lost  a 
casket  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  his  mother. 
Search  has  been  made  far  and  wide,  and  it  is  still 
going  on.  It  is  now  supposed  that  someone,  in  pass- 
ing through  the  forest,  has  found  it,  and,  not  know- 
ing the  value,  has  concluded  to  keep  it  as  a  curiosity. 
By  chance,  I  saw  your  daughter  walking  in  the  forest 
[84] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

yesterday,  and  have  an  idea  that  she  has  the  casket. 
If  she  will  give  it  to  me,  it  will  be  returned  to  the 
Prince,  and  she  may  get  a  reward,  but  if  not,  nothing 
will  be  said  about  it.  If  she  has  hidden  it,  or  if  she 
tries  to  keep  it '  Here  the  old  crone  made  a  hor- 
rible grimace,  and  made  a  motion  as  if  the  affair 
would  be  a  hanging  matter. 

"  The  husband  and  father  had  already  gone  to  his 
work  in  the  fields,  and  the  mother  knew  not  what  to 
do.  She  had  no  idea  that  her  daughter  had  told  her 
a  falsehood  about  the  casket;  and  yet,  how  did  this 
old  woman  know  about  it?  Being  a  simple-minded 
woman,  she  was  quite  puzzled  as  to  the  wisest  course 
to  take;  but  she  remembered  that  her  daughter  had 
got  along  very  well  without  the  casket  all  the  days 
of  her  life,  and  so  she  said  to  the  old  crone: 

"  *  My  daughter  has  the  casket,  and  when  the 
Prince  comes,  or  someone  who  represents  him,  it  shall 
be  returned  to  him.  You  may  tell  him  this  for  me.' 

"  '  And  do  you  suppose  that  the  illustrious  Prince 

will  condescend  to  come  to  this  hovel,  or  lower  himself 

to  send  for  what  belongs  to  him?     If  you  do,  you  are 

mightily  mistaken.     The  casket  will  be  sent  for,  be 

[85] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

sure  of  that — but  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  caught  in  this 
house  when  the  messenger  comes.*  The  old  crone 
cackled  as  she  said  this,  and  was  for  going  away,  but 
Lizette's  mother,  now  thoroughly  frightened,  told  her 
to  wait  a  moment,  and  she  would  get  the  casket. 
'  Aha ! '  cried  the  hag ;  *  you  are  coming  to  your 
senses,  I  see !  And  it  is  very  well  for  you  and  your 
daughter  that  you  are.  It  will  save  you  much  trouble 
now  and  in  the  days  to  come.' 

"  Now,  while  her  mother  was  talking  to  this  old 
crone,  Lizette  was  standing  at  the  door  of  her  room 
listening,  and  all  the  time  she  was  listening  the  crystal 
bell  was  sounding  its  warning.  The  young  girl  felt 
that  the  old  hag  would  frighten  her  mother,  and  that 
she  would  have  to  surrender  the  casket  if  she  remained 
in  the  house,  and  so,  while  the  bell  was  rapping  out 
its  warning  notes,  she  slipped  through  the  window  of 
her  room,  and  fled  into  the  fields,  and  as  soon  as  she 
got  out  of  sight  of  the  house  the  bell  ceased  to  sound 
the  alarm. 

"  Thus  it  happened  that  when  Lizette's  mother 
went  to  fetch  the  casket,  she  found  her  daughter  gone. 
She  was  much  troubled  at  this,  for  the  child  had  not 
[86] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

eaten  her  breakfast.  The  mother  searched  in  the 
blankets  for  the  casket,  but  it  was  not  to  be  found, 
and  she  was  compelled  to  tell  the  old  woman  that 
Lizette  had  gone  out,  but  would  probably  return  in 
a  short  time. 

"  '  Gone  out,  is  she?  I  thought  as  much.  Well, 
the  casket  will  be  called  for,  mark  that !  And  the 
girl  will  be  called  for  also — and  you  will  do  well  to 
mark  that,  too.' 

"  She  went  away  laughing  like  a  hen  cackling,  and 
left  the  poor  woman  thoroughly  frightened.  And 
yet,  somehow,  she  had  a  feeling  of  relief.  If  Lizette 
had  been  in  the  house  she  would  undoubtedly  have 
compelled  her  to  surrender  the  casket.  When  the 
mother  grew  calmer,  she  felt  convinced  that  the  old 
hag  had  tried  to  deceive  her,  for  she  had  never  known 
her  daughter  to  tell  a  falsehood. 

"  She  waited  for  her  daughter  to  return,  and  she 
also  had  some  expectation  that  the  Prince  would  send 
for  the  casket;  but  she  soon  forgot  all  about  the 
Prince  when  Lizette  continued  to  absent  herself,  some- 
thing that  she  had  never  been  known  to  do  until  after 
she  had  attended  to  all  her  household  duties.  Now  she 
[87] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

was  gone,  and  nothing  had  been  attended  to — she  had 
not  even  eaten  her  breakfast.  The  good  mother 
fretted  and  worried  a  good  deal  as  the  morning  passed 
with  no  sign  of  Lizette.  She  went  to  the  field  where 
her  husband  was  working,  and  told  him  of  all  the  hap- 
penings of  the  morning.  The  poor  man  could  only 
shake  his  head  and  push  his  spade  deeper  into  the 
ground;  he  could  do  nothing;  he  was  helpless.  He 
felt  naturally  that  if  he  had  been  allowed  to  have  his 
own  way — if  he  had  been  permitted  to  bury  the  casket 
deep  out  of  sight — they  would  have  had  no  trouble 
with  it.  He  felt  so  and  said  so ;  and  this  view  of  the 
matter  seemed  so  reasonable  that  the  good  wife  began 
to  cry,  feeling  that  everything  that  had  occurred  had 
been  her  fault.  The  poor  woman  cried  all  the  way 
home,  and  only  dried  her  eyes  when  she  came  near 
the  house,  feeling  that  it  would  not  mend  matters  for 
Lizette  to  see  her  in  tears  if  she  had  by  any  chance 
returned. 

"  But  Lizette  had  not  returned,  and  the  mother  now 

became    thoroughly    frightened.     It    seemed    to    her 

that  the  house  was  lonelier  than  ever,  and  she  had 

known  it  to  be  very  lonely  sometimes.     But  with  her 

[88] 


THE    CRYSTAL   BELL 

child  gone,  and  with  all  the  dread  created  by  uncer- 
tainty hanging  about  her,  the  place  no  longer  felt 
like  home,  and  she  gave  way  to  her  tears  again. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  work  to  be  done, — cooking, 
washing,  scrubbing, — but  she  set  about  it  with  a  heavy 
heart. 

"  As  for  Lizette,  she  had  been  led  away  from  the 
house  by  her  desire  to  preserve  the  crystal  bell.  She 
went  into  the  forest,  where  she  remained  until  she 
thought  the  old  woman  had  gone  away,  but  when  she 
started  back  home,  the  bell  began  to  warn  her  with  its 
tinkling  strokes,  and  she  felt  justified  in  obeying  the 
warning.  So  she  continued  to  ramble  about  at  ran- 
dom in  the  forest.  She  came  to  a  path,  and  would 
have  crossed  it,  but  the  bell  warned  her,  and  it  con- 
tinued until  she  went  along  the  path  in  a  direction 
that  led  her  away  from  her  home. 

"  In  rambling  about  in  the  forest  she  had  avoided 
this  path,  for  she  knew  that  it  led  to  the  King's  high- 
way, which  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year  was  filled 
with  travellers,  some  in  coaches,  some  in  carriages, 
and  some  on  horseback.  It  was  the  season  for  the 
great  annual  fete  at  the  King's  capital,  and,  at  such 
[89] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

times,  Lizette's  mother  had  often  warned  her  not  to 
go  in  sight  of  the  highway.  The  good  woman  knew 
that  her  daughter  was  very  beautiful,  and  she  wanted 
to  keep  her  out  of  sight  of  the  reckless  and  irresponsi- 
ble persons  who  might  chance  to  be  going  to  or  coming 
from  the  capital  of  the  kingdom. 

"  The  warnings  of  her  mother  had  been  sufficient 
to  keep  Lizette  away  from  the  highway,  and  she  had 
confined  her  rambles  to  that  part  of  the  forest  where 
strangers  never  came.  But  now  the  crystal  bell  was 
leading  her  to  disobey  the  instructions  of  both  her 
mother  and  father,  but  she  thought  she  had  a  very 
good  reason  for  it,  and  she  followed  as  the  bell  led. 
When  she  came  in  sight  of  the  King's  highway,  a  com- 
pany of  troopers  was  passing,  and  they  made  a  brave 
show,  with  their  shining  armour,  their  glittering  hal- 
berds, and  their  fiery  horses.  Following  this  troop 
was  a  troop  of  foot  soldiers,  with  their  fifes  and  drums 
and  flying  flags. 

"  Lizette  gazed  at  the  great  array  with  delight. 
She  had  never  seen  anything  so  fine,  and  she  was  ready 
to  clap  her  hands  because  of  the  brave  show  the  sol- 
diers made.  She  would  have  gone  closer,  but  the 
[90] 


The  soldiers  passing* 


THE    CRYSTAL   BELL 

crystal  bell  tinkled  out  its  warning,  and  she  remained 
where  she  was.  But  presently  the  highway  was  clear, 
and  as  she  went  forward  the  bell  was  silent.  The 
road  ran  between  two  hedges  that  had  been  planted 
along  its  entire  length  by  order  of  the  old  King,  who 
had  been  dead  many  years — so  many  that  his  grand- 
son, who  reigned  in  his  stead,  was  now  an  old  man 
with  a  son  of  his  own,  who  was  called  the  Prince. 
Lizette  had  often  heard  how  handsome  and  good  this 
young  Prince  was.  He  was  so  different  from  many 
other  princes  that  his  good  deeds  and  his  kindness 
were  talked  of  everywhere. 

"  There  was  an  opening  in  the  hedge  near  where 
Lizette  stood,  and  she  went  through  and  stood  in  the 
road,  looking  at  the  gay  cavalcade  of  soldiers  that  was 
just  disappearing  in  the  distance.  She  was  so  much 
interested  in  this  that  she  failed  to  see  a  great  coach 
that  was  coming  along  the  road  behind  her.  The 
crystal  bell  warned  her  in  time  to  get  out  of  the  way, 
and  then  it  began  to  ring  out  a  beautiful  chime.  The 
coachman  was  for  driving  on  by,  but  a  grand  lady  who 
sat  in  the  coach  gave  him  a  command  to  stop,  and  he 
drew  up  his  fine  horses  instantly. 
[93] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

"  In  the  coach  with  the  fine  lady  were  a  gentleman 
and  a  little  girl,  and  they  were  all  three  staring  at 
Lizette  with  all  their  eyes.  *  Did  you  ever  see  a 
creature  more  beautiful? '  cried  the  lady.  '  Just 
think  how  lovely  she  would  be  if  she  were  prop- 
erly clad !  Why,  she  would  create  a  sensation 
at  court;  she  would  take  the  people's  breath 
away ! ' 

"  *  Oh,  give  her  to  me,  mamma ! '  exclaimed  the  little 
girl.  *  We  will  dress  her  up  in  my  large  dolly's 
clothes,  and  then  she'll  be  my  sweetest  dolly.'  The 
little  girl  was  so  much  in  earnest  that  she  stood  up  and 
looked  from  the  window  of  the  coach,  and  called  and 
beckoned  to  Lizette.  '  Come  here ! '  she  cried.  '  You 
must  go  with  me  and  be  my  largest  dolly.' 

"  Lizette  smiled  at  the  little  girl,  and  the  smile 
made  her  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  gentleman 
in  the  coach  was  not  so  enthusiastic  as  the  lady  and 
the  little  girl.  '  Her  clothing  is  in  rags,'  he  sug- 
gested. '  But  it  is  very  clean,'  replied  the  lady. 
*  And  look  at  her  hands,  how  small — and  her  com- 
plexion, how  clear!  Why,  she  is  as  beautiful  as  a 
wild  rose.'  «  True,'  said  the  gentleman ;  «  but  she  is 
[94] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

happy  here — will  she  be  as  happy  in  a  strange  place 
and  among  strange  people  ?  ' 

"  '  As  to  that,  I  cannot  say,'  answered  the  lady ; 

*  but  she  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  those  rare  natures 
which  find  happiness  in  making  others  happy.'     The 
gentleman    shrugged    his    shoulders.      *  Have    your 
way.' 

"  The  lady  asked  Lizette  her  name,  and  inquired 
about  her  father  and  mother,  and  was  very  much 
pleased  at  the  replies  she  received.  The  appearance 
and  attitude  of  the  young  girl  were  so  modest,  and  her 
replies  were  so  intelligent,  that  those  in  the  coach  could 
not  but  believe  that  she  was  superior  to  the  station  in 
which  Providence  had  placed  her. 

"  '  Oh,  manlma ! '  cried  the  little  girl  again, '  please 
give  her  to  me ;  I  will  take  good  care  of  her.' 

"  '  I  am  sure  of  that,  my  dearest,'  replied  the  lady, 

*  but  she  doesn't  belong  to  me.     If  she  will  go  with 
me  of  her  own  free  will,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  take 
her.' 

"  Just  as  Lizette  was  about  to  say  that  she  would 
be  very  glad  to  go  with  the  kind  lady,  an  old  woman 
came  out  of  the  wood  behind  her,  and  rushed  forward 
[95] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

as  if  to  embrace  her.  Lizette  eluded  her,  and  turned 
to  those  in  the  coach  with  an  air  of  entreaty,  for  she 
recognised  in  the  old  woman  the  same  old  hag  who  had 
come  after  the  casket,  claiming  that  the  Prince  had 
lost  it  in  the  forest.  Strange  to  say,  however,  the 
crystal  bell  sounded  no  note  of  warning.  It  was  quite 
silent,  save  when  the  golden  hammer  rung  out  the 
musical  chimes.  For  this  reason  she  was  no  longer 
afraid  of  the  old  woman.  She  had  an  idea,  indeed, 
that  this  old  hag  was  no  other  than  the  evil-minded 
fairy  whom  she  had  been  warned  against. 

"  '  You  see  how  my  daughter  treats  me ! '  cried  the 
old  crone ;  '  but  you  must  excuse  her,  Your  Honours. 
When  she  gets  hungry,  she  is  quite  another  creature. 
She  is  ashamed  of  me  before  company,  but  she  is  not 
ashamed  of  me  when  she  wants  food.' 

"  *  You  are  not  my  mother,'  said  Lizette,  blush- 
ing ; '  but  if  you  were  I  would  not  be  ashamed  of  you. 
I  never  saw  you  until  this  morning,  and  then  you  were 
trying  to  rob  me.' 

"  '  Rob  you !  your  own  mother  rob  you  ! ' 

"  '  Not  my  mother,  but  you,  Dame  Spider.'  When 
the  old  crone  heard  this  name  she  flung  her  arms  above 
[96] 


THE    CRYSTAL   BELL 

her  head,  gave  a  cry,  and  darted  into  the  wood. 
Lizette  had  no  idea  that  this  name  would  have  such  an 
effect  on  the  old  woman,  but  she  remembered  what 
she  had  heard  of  the  spider  that  had  tried  to  catch 
the  good  fairy,  and  she  called  the  old  woman  Dame 
Spider  to  let  her  know — if  she  was  the  wicked  fairy — 
that  she  was  suspected. 

"  The  little  girl  laughed  to  see  the  ugly  old  woman 
run  away  so  quickly.  '  She  doesn't  like  the  name,' 
said  the  gentleman.  *  If  she's  your  mother,  it's  a 
pity/ 

"  '  But  she  is  not  my  mother,'  Lizette  insisted.  *  I 
never  saw  her  but  once  before  in  my  life.  My  mother 
and  father  live  at  the  farther  edge  of  the  forest,  and  if 
the  lady  has  time  to  drive  that  way,  she  can  see  them 
both.  My  mother  is  quite  different  from  the  woman 
you  saw  here  just  now.' 

"  '  I  should  hope  so,'  said  the  lady ;  and  then  she 
told  Lizette  that  she  would  like  to  take  her  to  the 
capital,  where  the  court  was,  and  where  the  King 
lived,  and  she  promised  the  young  girl  that  she  would 
be  well  taken  care  of. 

"  Lizette  replied  that  she  would  be  glad  to  go  if 
[97] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

she  could  get  the  permission  of  her  father  and  mother. 
Those  in  the  carriage  consulted  a  while  together,  and 
at  last  it  was  decided  to  send  one  of  the  footmen  with 
Lizette.  Meanwhile,  the  lady,  the  gentleman,  and  the 
little  girl  were  to  sit  in  the  coach  and  wait  for  the 
footman's  return.  The  gentleman,  it  was  plain,  was 
not  pleased  with  the  programme;  but  he  made  the 
best  of  it,  and  sat  with  what  patience  he  could,  though 
he  yawned  a  great  deal. 

"  Now,  if  the  wicked  fairy  was  powerless  to  do 
Lizette  a  bodily  injury  while  she  carried  the  crystal 
bell  in  her  bosom,  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  throw 
a  great  many  unexpected  obstacles  in  the  young  girl's 
way,  and  this  she  proceeded  to  do.  Lizette,  accom- 
panied by  the  footman,  turned  into  the  path  by  which 
she  had  come  to  the  highway,  but  presently  this  path 
became  obscure,  and  it  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until 
finally  it  disappeared  altogether.  This  was  not  only 
puzzling  to  the  young  girl — it  was  distressing.  The 
path  had  always  been  plain  enough  before,  and  she 
could  not  understand  why  it  should  fail  to  be  plain 
now.  But  she  kept  on  the  best  she  knew  how.  The 
footman  was  very  patient  and  kind, — he  wanted 
[98] 


Lizette  and  the  footman  on  the  blind  path. 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

Lizette  to  give  a  good  report  of  his  conduct  if  she 
returned, — but  the  young  girl  was  completely  at  a 
loss  as  to  the  direction  in  which  she  was  going.  She 
knew  she  had  been  in  this  part  of  the  wood  many 
times,  though  not  in  the  path,  but  everything  seemed 
strange  to  her  now.  Her  eagerness  to  get  home  added 
largely  to  her  confusion,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
she  felt  that  she  was  lost — lost  in  a  forest  that  had 
almost  been  her  home. 

"  Just  as  she  was  about  to  tell  the  footman  that  she 
was  lost,  and  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  a  large 
butterfly — the  one  that  she  had  seen  on  two  occasions 
before — floated  down  from  the  tops  of  the  trees,  and 
circled  round  her  head  close  to  her  face.  *  Lead  me 
home,  pretty  butterfly ! '  she  exclaimed ;  '  lead  me 
home,  and  that  quickly.' 

"  The  footman  thought  at  first  that  she  was  speak- 
ing to  him,  but  she  shook  her  head  when  he  asked 
her,  and  kept  her  eyes  on  the  butterfly,  which  now 
went  in  a  direction  nearly  opposite  to  that  in  which 
they  had  been  going.  Lizette  followed  it,  and  the 
footman  followed  her,  and  they  went  along  very 
rapidly.  Once  she  lost  sight  of  the  butterfly,  but  she 
[101] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

soon  found  it  again.  It  had  been  compelled  to  fly 
over  the  tops  of  the  trees  to  escape  a  large  spider's 
web  that  had  been  flung  from  tree  to  tree.  At  that 
moment,  too,  they  found  the  path  again,  and  Li- 
zette  ran  ahead,  the  footman  following  as  best  he 
could. 

"  Lizette  was  soon  at  home,  and  once  there  her  story 
was  quickly  told,  every  part  of  which  was  confirmed 
by  the  footman.  This  was  not  enough  for  the 
mother,  who  insisted  on  accompanying  her  daughter 
to  the  highway,  so  she  could  see  the  face  of  the  kind 
lady  who  had  proposed  to  take  her  child  to  the  great 
city  and  provide  for  her.  The  mother  quickly  got 
together  the  modest  wardrobe  that  belonged  to 
Lizette,  and  insisted  on  dressing  her  in  her  Sunday 
best.  This  occupied  but  a  few  moments,  and  then 
they  were  ready  to  return. 

"  They  found  the  lady  and  her  companions  await- 
ing them  very  impatiently.  The  gentleman  was  in 
such  a  hurry  that  he  had  descended  from  the  coach> 
and  was  pacing  slowly  up  and  down,  wishing,  no 
doubt,  that  they  had  never  seen  the  peasant  girl. 
Still,  he  was  a  kind-hearted  gentleman,  and  he  was 
[102] 


THE    CRYSTAL   BELL 

rather  glad  on  the  whole  that  the  young  girl  had 
returned.  The  lady,  without  telling  her  name,  spoke 
very  kindly  to  Lizette's  mother,  and  told  her  how  the 
beauty  of  the  child  had  attracted  her,  and  how  she 
proposed  to  take  charge  of  her  and  provide  for  her 
until  she  had  become  of  age.  Though  the  poor  peas- 
ant woman  loved  her  daughter  dearly,  and  though  she 
knew  that  she  would  lie  awake  and  weep  over  her  ab- 
sence for  many  a  long  night,  she  raised  no  objection 
to  the  lady's  wishes.  On  the  contrary,  she  declared 
that  she  looked  on  the  lady's  offer  as  the  great- 
est honour  that  ever  had  or  ever  could  come  to 
them. 

"  *  Be  not  too  sure  of  that,'  said  the  lady,  *  for  your 
daughter  has  modesty  as  well  as  beauty,  and  if  she 
is  also  generous  and  kind-hearted,  nothing  will  stand 
in  the  way  of  her  advancement.' 

"  The  mother  could  not  find  words  to  express  her 
thanks,  and  so  she  turned  away,  after  kissing  her 
daughter  good-bye,  and  went  out  of  sight  without 
looking  back,  for  she  was  afraid  Lisette  would  see  her 
weeping. 

"  Now,  this  great  lady  was  not  altogether  unselfish 
[103] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

in  what  she  proposed  to  do.  She  was  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  court,  and  her  husband,  the  gentleman 
who  was  in  the  coach  with  her,  was  one  of  the  King's 
chief  advisers.  The  lady  was  ambitious  not  only  for 
herself,  but  for  her  husband.  She  knew  that  the 
King  would  soon  be  compelled  to  surrender  the  gov- 
ernment to  his  son  the  Prince,  and  she  wanted  her  hus- 
band and  herself  to  stand  well  with  the  Prince  when 
he  became  King.  It  happened  that  the  young  Prince, 
who  had  just  come  of  age,  had  publicly  declared  his 
purpose  to  marry  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
kingdom,  without  regard  to  rank  or  station.  The 
only  conditions  he  attached  to  the  decree  was  that  the 
woman  of  his  choice  should  be  modest,  gentle,  gen- 
erous, and  good,  as  well  as  beautiful. 

"  Those  who  were  attached  to  the  court  thought 
that  it  would  be  well  for  the  young  Prince  to  marry 
a  princess  of  one  of  the  neighbouring  kingdoms,  so 
that  the  power  and  influence  of  his  own  country  might 
be  strengthened,  and  they  were  very  much  disturbed 
over  the  announcement  that  the  heir  to  the  throne  had 
made.  They  were  inclined  to  regard  it  as  evidence 
that  he  would  make  an  eccentric  ruler  when  he  became 
[104] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

King.  But  there  were  others  who  thought  that  it 
showed  an  independent  mind,  and  a  desire  to  make 
himself  popular  with  his  own  people. 

"  Nevertheless,  those  who  were  close  to  the  court 
were  in  the  habit  of  trying  to  please  those  who  were 
above  them,  and  some  of  these  set  their  wits  to  work 
to  please  the  Prince  in  the  matter,  in  the  hope  that 
they  might  advance  their  own  interests.  Among 
these  was  the  lady  who  had  induced  Lizette  to  accom- 
pany her  to  court.  This  lady  had  a  great  advantage 
over  the  other  ladies  of  the  court.  She  had  humoured 
the  Prince  when  he  was  a  mere  boy,  and  she  had  given 
him  good  advice  in  many  ways.  His  own  mother, 
who  had  been  the  Queen,  was  dead,  and  this  lady  had 
been  very  kind  to  him  when  he  stood  much  in  need  of 
sympathy. 

"  When  the  young  Prince  made  his  announcement, 
the  lady  urged  her  husband  to  visit  his  estate  in  the 
country,  in  the  hope  that  the  journey  would  enable  her 
to  discover  a  young  girl  who  was  beautiful  enough 
to  catch  the  eye  of  the  Prince.  Her  journey  had  been 
in  vain  up  to  the  moment  when  she  saw  Lizette  stand- 
ing by  the  roadside,  and  it  needed  but  a  glance  for 
[105] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

her  to  see  that  this  girl  was  the  one  she  had  been 
searching  for. 

"  Once  at  the  capital,  and  in  her  own  home,  she  lost 
no  time  in  preparing  a  suitable  wardrobe  for  Lizette. 
She  had  sent  to  her  a  great  many  fine  dresses,  and  she 
observed  with  pleasure  that  the  young  girl  chose  the 
simplest.  And  even  while  Lizette  was  choosing,  and 
was  prepared  to  be  very  happy,  she  thought  of 
the  poverty  of  her  mother  and  father,  and  sighed. 
She  made  no  secret  of  her  thoughts,  and  the  lady  told 
her  that  in  a  few  months,  perhaps,  she  would  be  able 
to  give  her  parents  everything  they  wanted  and  more. 

"  The  young  Prince  finally  set  the  day  when  he  was 
to  make  his  choice,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  he  named 
a  new  condition.  The  young  girl  who  was  to  be  his 
bride  was  to  be  not  only  beautiful,  gentle,  generous, 
and  good,  but  she  was  to  bring  as  her  wedding  dowry 
a  trinket,  or  piece  of  jewelry,  or  some  article  of  value 
which  could  not  be  matched  in  the  kingdom.  Of 
course  there  was  great  consternation  among  those 
whose  friends  or  daughters  had  proposed  to  enter  the 
contest.  Some  of  the  would-be  brides  withdrew  in  a 
huff,  while  others  besieged  the  jewellers  with  orders 
[106] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

to  make  them  some  kind  of  an  ornament  which  should 
have  no  pattern  or  fellow  in  the  kingdom.  The  result 
was  quite  curious,  for  when  the  day  came  for  the 
Prince  to  make  his  selection  of  a  bride,  the  room  in  the 
palace  which  had  been  set  apart  for  those  who  were 
ambitious  to  become  princesses  had  the  appearance 
of  a  museum  full  of  queer  relics. 

"  Now,  the  lady  who  had  Lizette  in  charge  had  very 
wisely  refrained  from  telling  her  about  the  declara- 
tion of  the  Prince,  for  she  knew  that  the  young  girl's 
modesty  would  take  alarm.  But  the  Prince  was  a 
frequent  visitor  at  the  lady's  house,  and  she  contrived 
it  so  that  the  two  young  people  should  see  each  other. 
Indeed,  she  gave  them  frequent  opportunities  to  con- 
verse together.  Not  knowing  that  the  young  man 
was  the  Prince,  Lizette  talked  with  him  very  freely, 
and  he  with  her.  He  inquired  if  she  intended  to  enter 
into  the  contest  with  the  beauties  of  the  kingdom  in 
response  to  the  invitation  of  the  Prince. 

"  '  Why,  no,'  she  replied.  *  I  am  nothing  but  a 
poor  peasant  girl,  and  my  parents  have  as  much  as 
they  can  do  to  earn  an  honest  living.  The  Prince 
wouldn't  look  at  such  as  I.' 

[107] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  He  then  tried  to  explain  that,  under  the  terms  of 
the  contest,  a  peasant  girl  would  have  as  good  a  chance 
as  any,  if  only  she  could  fulfil  the  conditions.  But 
Lizette  only  laughed,  declaring  that  she  would  feel 
so  much  out  of  place  among  the  beautiful  girls  of  the 
kingdom  that  she  would  feel  like  sinking  through  the 
floor. 

"  '  But,'  the  young  man  insisted, '  if  the  Prince  were 
wise  he  would  choose  you  in  preference  to  all  the  rest.' 

"  The  lady  had  overheard  this  conversation,  and 
her  heart  was  filled  with  joy,  especially  when  Lizette 
asked  her  some  time  afterwards  if  she  thought  the 
Prince  was  wise.  The  reply  of  the  lady  was  that  the 
Prince  was  as  wise  as  the  young  man  who  sometimes 
came  to  see  them.  This  reply  caused  Lizette  to  blush, 
though  it  failed  to  put  any  foolish  ideas  in  her  head. 

"  When  the  day  came  for  the  Prince  to  make  choice 
of  his  bride,  the  largest  room  in  the  palace  was  filled 
with  young  ladies  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and 
some  of  them  were  very  beautiful.  Lizette  was  there 
also,  but  the  lady  had  given  her  to  understand  that 
she  was  to  be  present  merely  as  a  spectator.  When 
everything  was  ready,  the  young  man  who  sometimes 
[108] 


The  room  full  of  trinkets. 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

visited  the  lady  with  whom  Lizette  lived,  came  into 
the  room  and  looked  around.  All  the  young  girls, 
with  the  exception  of  Lizette,  bowed  very  low,  making 
curtsies  that  were  deemed  a  part  of  the  court  etiquette. 
Lizette,  having  no  idea  that  this  was  the  Prince, 
merely  nodded  as  to  an  old  acquaintance.  This 
created  some  comment,  and  as  her  beauty  shone  out 
more  brightly  than  all  the  rest,  the  comment  was 
somewhat  ill-natured.  In  the  view  of  some  she  was 
an  '  impudent  minx,'  while  others  whispered  that  she 
was  *  ill-bred  and  impolite.'  As  Lizette  heard  none  of 
these  remarks,  she  regarded  the  scene  with  great  com- 
posure, wondering  when  the  Prince  would  make  his  ap- 
pearance. A  small  throne  had  been  placed  at  one  end 
of  the  room,  and  ushers  and  servants  in  fine  uniforms 
stood  at  its  rear,  and  were  lined  up  on  each  side. 

"  Suddenly,  while  Lizette  was  admiring  the  scene, 
and  wondering  where  so  many  beautiful  girls  had 
come  from,  an  usher  came  to  her.  *  The  Prince,'  he 
said,  *  would  be  pleased  to  speak  with  you.'  He  led 
the  way  toward  the  throne,  and  she  beheld  seated  there 
the  young  man  with  whom  she  had  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance. 

[Ill] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  '  I  am  the  Prince,'  he  said ;  '  will  you  seat  your- 
self beside  me?' 

"  '  Your  Royal  Highness,  I '     The  poor  girl 

was  so  astonished  that  she  could  hardly  speak,  and,  in 
fact,  she  knew  not  what  to  say. 

"  The  Prince  rose,  seeing  her  embarrassment,  and 
took  her  by  the  hand.  She  would  have  knelt  before 
him,  but  he  would  not  permit  it.  *  There  are  two 
seats,  Lizette,'  he  said.  '  One  is  for  me,  and  the  other, 
if  you  will  take  it,  is  for  you.'  While  he  was  speak- 
ing the  crystal  bell  was  ringing  a  joyful  chime.  He 
heard  it  and  paused  to  listen,  charmed  with  the  sweet 
melody.  Trembling,  she  stepped  forward  to  take  the 
seat,  then  paused,  and  turned  to  the  Prince.  '  Have 
you  forgotten,  Your  Highness,  that  I  am  but  a  poor 
peasant  girl?  My  father  burns  charcoal,  and  my 
mother  gathers  faggots.' 

"  Instead  of  answering  her  he  led  her  to  the  seat, 
and  as  she  took  it  he  was  well  repaid  by  the  look  she 
gave  him.  Her  eyes,  swimming  in  happy  tears,  were 
full  of  gratitude.  *  I  heard  music  just  now,  and  I 
hear  it  again,'  said  the  Prince.  '  Can  you  by  any 
chance  tell  me  where  it  is  and  what  it  is?  ' 
[112] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

'*  For  answer,  she  took  the  casket  containing  the 
crystal  bell  from  her  bosom,  and  placed  it  in  his  hand. 
It  chimed  forth  a  sweet  melody  louder  than  ever.  And 
all  the  great  company  were  enchanted  by  the  music 
so  wonderfully  produced. 

"  Well,"  said  the  man  in  the  box  or  cage,  "  that 
is  the  end  of  my  story.  Lizette  was  married  to  the 
Prince,  and  in  due  time  became  the  Queen,  and  her 
parents  were  well  cared  for.  The  young  Prince,  who 
afterward  became  King,  would  have  bestowed  riches 
on  them,  but  they  insisted  that  all  they  desired  was  to 
be  comfortable.  Now  that  their  daughter  was  happy, 
they  had  no  other  aim  in  life  than  to  live  contented  on 
their  farm. 

"  One  of  the  features  of  the  wedding,  which  was 
celebrated  with  great  magnificence,  was  a  large  and 
beautiful  butterfly  which  hovered  over  the  bride  dur- 
ing the  ceremony,  and  alighted  on  her  shoulder  after- 
wards, and  sat  there  fanning  her  face  with  its  wings, 
which  shone  as  if  they  were  studded  with  jewels.  One 
of  the  scholars  at  the  court — he  was  an  entomologist, 
a  man  who  collects  bugs  and  insects — wanted  to  catch 
the  butterfly  and  add  it  to  his  collection,  but  the  Prin- 
[113] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

cess  protested  so  earnestly  that  the  Prince  threatened 
to  banish  him  from  the  court  if  he  so  much  as  looked 
at  the  butterfly.  As  you  may  guess,  the  butterfly 
was  no  other  than  the  good  fairy  who  had  brought  all ' 
this  good  fortune  to  Lizette." 

"  That  is  the  kind  of  a  story  I  like,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan.  "  Fair  to  middling,"  remarked  Wally  Wan- 
deroon,  "  but  a  trifle  long  for  the  matter  that  is  in 
it.  How  do  you  like  it?  "  he  inquired,  turning  to 
Drusilla,  who  was  beginning  to  look  sleepy. 

"Who — me?  Well,  dey's  lot's  too  much  princin' 
an'  kingin'  fer  me;  an'  dem  ar  butterflies — dey  may 
er  been  dar,  but  ef  dey  is,  I  don't  want  none  un  um 
skeetin'  roun'  me." 

"  It's  a  story  for  girls,"  said  Buster  John,  "  and  it 
does  pretty  well." 

"  There  was  a  young  Prince  in  it,"  suggested 
Sweetest  Susan. 

Buster  John  made  no  further  criticism,  and  Wally 

Wanderoon  seemed  to  be  reflecting.     "  I  caught  that 

chap  and  put  him  in  there  because  I  was  told  he  was 

a  great  teller  of  stories;  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  be 

[114] 


THE    CRYSTAL    BELL 

doing  as  well  as  his  friends  thought  he  would.  He 
is  getting  long-winded,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  needs 
exercise,  or  something  of  that  kind.  It  may  be  that 
I  am  getting  too  old  to  appreciate  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  I  hope  not.  I  have  seen  the  day  when  I  could 
tell  a  story  myself.  I  don't  mean  by  that  that  I  could 
sit  down  and  work  it  up  in  my  mind.  I  am  so  consti- 
tuted that,  in  order  to  tell  a  good  story,  I  must  have 
facts  to  go  on — not  ordinary  facts,  but  the  truth  as 
it  appears  to  those  who  know  something  about  it." 

"  Then  tell  us  one  of  that  kind,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  would  think  I  was  drawing  the 
long  bow — stretching  the  blanket — chewing  the  red 
rag — or  something  of  that  kind.  To  look  at  me  now 
you  wouldn't  think  I  was  once  young  and  sweet,  would 
you  ?  And  yet,  that  is  the  rumour  I  heard  from  those 
who  could  remember  about  it.  They  are  all  dead 
now,  but  they  were  not  dead  when  they  handed  the 
rumour  down  to  me.  One  of  them  was  my  mother, 
and  she  said  that  if  I  had  had  my  picture  taken,  and 
someone  had  held  it  to  the  light,  sweetness  would  have 
oozed  out  of  it  just  as  naturally  as  rosin  out  of  a 
pine." 

[115] 


VI 

THE  RED  FLANNEL  NIGHT-CAP 
£  £  ^W  "IT"  TELL,  when  I  was     about  as  large  as 

^y  ^y  Buster  John  here,  and  still  as  sweet  as 
ever,  so  far  as  I  know,  I  went  to  visit 
my  godmother.  She  belonged  to  a  roving  band  of 
gipsies,  and  she  and  her  companions  happened  to  be 
camping  near  my  father's  house  when  I  was  born. 
Nobody  asked  her  to  be  my  godmother;  she  simply 
walked  into  the  room,  and  announced  that  she  pro- 
posed to  take  on  herself  the  duties  of  such  a  position, 
and  before  anybody  could  say  a  word,  she  touched  me 
on  the  forehead  three  times,  turned  around  twice,  sat 
down  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  made  some  marks 
on  the  planks  with  her  thumbnail,  using  her  left  hand, 
and  there  she  was — having  made  herself  my  god- 
mother before  a  fish  could  bat  its  eye.  That  done, 
she  made  a  low  bow  to  the  small  company  there  as- 
sembled, and  went  her  way.  The  next  morning,  when 
my  mother  sent  out  to  discover  the  name  of  the  person 
[116] 


THE   FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

who  had  made  herself  my  godmother  so  unceremoni- 
ously, she  and  her  companions  had  moved  on.  Not  a 
sign  of  them  was  left,  except  the  ashes  of  the  fire  that 
they  had  lit  in  their  camp. 

"  This  was  a  fine  beginning,  you  will  say,  and  per- 
haps you  would  be  right  about  it.  I  don't  remember 
what  I  thought  at  the  time,  but  as  the  report  is  that 
I  began  to  cry  as  soon  as  the  gipsy-woman  left  the 
house,  and  kept  it  up  for  some  time,  the  probability 
is  that  I  was  somewhat  angry  at  the  way  I  had  been 
treated.  That  is  why  I  say  that  people  should  be 
very  careful  about  the  feelings  of  children.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  grief  at  that  time  has  something  to  do 
with  my  growth.  If  I  had  been  consulted,  I  think  I 
would  have  been  several  feet  taller." 

"  What  were  you  grieving  about? "  inquired 
Sweetest  Susan,  who  was  always  ready  to  show  her 
sympathy. 

"  That  is  the  trouble,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  I  don't  remember ;  if  I  did,  no  doubt  my  mind  would 
be  easier  on  the  subject.  In  your  way  through  the 
world,  you  should  always  take  time  to  sympathise  with 
those  who  have  secret  troubles.  Mine  are  so  small 
[117] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

that  I  don't  mind  telling  you  about  them,  as  you  have 
seen. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  growing  up,  my  mother  used  often 
to  tell  me  about  my  mysterious  godmother,  and  she 
always  left  the  impression  on  my  mind  that  we  had  not 
heard  the  last  of  her ;  and  the  idea  seemed  to  be  that, 
in  some  way,  this  godmother,  whose  name  no  one  knew, 
would  finally  make  my  fortune.  This  was  what  my 
mother  thought,  and  she  soon  brought  me  to  the  same 
way  of  thinking.  There  was  nothing  strange  about 
this ;  nearly  everybody  has  an  imaginary  ship  that  is 
always  to  come  into  port,  bringing  a  fortune,  and 
yet  it  always  founders  in  the  sea. 

"As  for  me,  I  had  some  very  long  thoughts,  as 
children  will  have,  but  I  waited  for  my  ship  the  same 
as  other  people.  One  day,  when  I  was  about  the  size 
of  Buster  John,  not  as  tall,  perhaps,  but  stouter,  a 
dark-looking  stranger  came  to  our  house,  and  asked 
for  my  mother.  She  presented  herself  as  soon  as  she 
could, — she  had  to  primp  a  little,  knowing  that  a 
stranger  had  called, — and  she  was  soon  given  to  un- 
derstand that  my  godmother  was  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  had  a  strong  desire  to  see  me.  Naturally, 


A  dark  stranger  came  to  our  door. 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

my  mother  thought  that  all  her  dreams  had  come  true, 
and  so  did  I  as  soon  as  I  heard  the  nature  of  the  mes- 
sage. 

"  I  was  keen  to  go,  and  my  mother  was  as  eager  as 
I  was ;  and  yet,  she  hesitated.  She  wondered  why  the 
godmother  hadn't  come  herself,  as  she  did  the  first 
time,  instead  of  sending.  The  reason  was  plain  to 
me,  for  if  she  had  sent  for  me  the  night  that  I  was 
born,  I  should  have  had  some  trouble  in  putting  on  my 
clothes  and  finding  my  way  to  the  camp  and  back 
again,  for  at  that  time,  you  must  remember,  I  was 
quite  a  stranger  in  those  parts.  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
big  oak  tree  that  grew  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  and 
I  had  not  even  seen  the  jaybirds  that  built  their 
nests  in  its  boughs  every  summer.  In  fact,  I 
was  about  as  ignorant  as  anyone  could  possibly 
be. 

"  Well,  you  know  how  it  is — my  mother  wanted  me 
to  go,  and  she  didn't.  She  thought  maybe  my  god- 
mother had  fortune,  or,  at  the  very  least,  a  fine  present, 
for  me,  and  then  she  was  afraid  I  wouldn't  come  back. 
As  for  me,  I  wanted  to  go.  After  a  boy  becomes 
twelve  years  of  age,  he  is  ready  to  take  almost  any 
[121] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

chance  that  presents  itself,  and  therefore  I  begged 
and  pleaded  with  my  mother  to  let  me  go.  While  she 
hesitated,  the  messenger  who  had  come  from  the  gip- 
sies— a  tall,  wild-eyed  looking  fellow — stood  and 
gazed  on  us  with  a  peculiar  smile  on  his  face.  Finally 
he  grew  impatient,  and  so  he  says,  in  a  careless  sort  of 

way,  '  What  shall  I  tell  my  mistress?  '  '  Why ' 

says  my  mother,  and  there  she  stopped.  Seeing  her 
hesitate,  I  ran  and  caught  the  man  by  the  hand  and 
pulled  him  along.  *  Come,'  said  I,  '  she's  willing,' 
and  away  we  went  through  the  woods,  the  man  walking 
fast  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  I  running  hard  at 
his  heels. 

"  We  presently  came  to  the  camp,  which  was 
pitched  in  the  midst  of  a  great  wood,  and  there  I  saw 
my  godmother  waiting  for  me  with  small  show  of 
patience. 

"  *  Oh,  and  you've  come,  have  you  ?  '  she  growled. 
'  I  would  have  waited  the  day  out,  if  I  were  you.  A 
pretty  way  to  treat  your  godmother,  and  the  only 
one  you've  got.' 

"  '  Why,  as  to  that,'  says  I,  *  having  never  seen 
you  before,  I  have  never  felt  the  need  of  you ;  but  I 
[122] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

would  have  been  here  before  now,  but  for  the  fears 
of  my  mother.' 

"  '  Oh ! '  she  cried ;  '  mammy  was  afraid  her  pretty 
darling  would  come  to  some  harm,'  she  sneered. 

"  '  She  had  her  doubts  about  it,'  I  replied ;  «  but 
as  for  me,  I  had  none.  Ask  your  messenger.' 

"  *  You  are  a  quick-spoken  lad,'  she  declared,  '  but 
that  was  to  be  expected,  with  such  a  godmother  as  you 
have.'  She  certainly  seemed  to  know  her  own  merits, 
and  made  no  attempt  to  hide  her  knowledge. 

"  She  was  not  what  I  should  call  a  handsome 
woman,"  Wally  Wanderoon  went  on,  "  but  she  had  her 
good  points.  For  one  thing  she  had  long  black  hair 
that  fell  away  from  her  head  in  great  waves,  and  her 
eyes  were  as  bright  as  those  of  a  mink — and  as  black. 
I  rather  liked  her  looks  myself.  There  was  nothing  of 
the  old  crone  about  her.  When  she  smiled  she  showed 
as  pretty  a  set  of  teeth  as  this  rubber  doll  of  yours." 

"  Huh !  ef  you  think  I'm  a  rubber  doll  youer  mighty 
much  mistaken,"  said  Drusilla  with  a  show  of  indigna- 
tion. "  I'm  bigger'n  you  is  an'  wider,  too." 

"  Oh,  you'll  do  pretty  well,"  remarked  Wally  Wan- 
deroon complacently ;  "  you'll  do  very  well  indeed. 
[123] 


WALLY  WANDEROON 
I  wish  you  had  been  with  me  at  the  time  I  am  speak- 
ing of.  That  was — let  me  see,  let  me  see — yes,  that 
was  three — no — four  hundred  years  ago  the  way  you 
count  time.  The  way  I  count  it,  it  was  only  four 
years  ago." 

"  Four  hundred  years  ago ! "  exclaimed  Buster 
John ;  "  why  this  country  wasn't  discovered  then." 

"  I  may  be  mistaken,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon, 
"  but  I  don't  think  I  said  anything  about  this  coun- 
try. In  fact,  the  story  I'm  telling  has  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  this  country." 

"  Oh !  "  Buster  John  cried  apologetically. 

"  Let  me  see — I  was  talking  about  my  godmother. 
As  I  was  saying,  she  was  a  tolerably  good-looking 
woman.  I  was  surprised  at  this,  for  I  had  an  idea 
that  godmothers  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  old 
and  somewhat  shaky.  I  said  as  much  to  the  woman, 
and  she  seemed  pleased,  for  she  smiled  and  showed 
her  pretty  white  teeth. 

"  '  I  have  several  gifts  for  you,'  she  said,  '  and  it 
remains  to  be  seen  whether  you  will  appreciate  them.' 
She  came  to  me  where  I  stood,  and  placed  her  hand  on 
my  head,  and  began  something  like  this — 
[124] 


THE   FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

"'It's  the  natural  right  of  every  man 

To  get  rich  if  he  must,  or  poor  if  he  can' 

"  I  leave  you  to  judge  whether,  at  my  age,  I  could 
understand  the  meaning  of  this.  I  don't  know  that 
I  understand  it  any  better  now ;  but  I  remember  every 
word  she  said,  and  this  was  the  way  she  began  when 
she  placed  her  hand  on  my  head.  Then  she  went  on : 

" '  Your  eyes  shall  see  in  the  night, 
Tour  feet  shall  be  swift  in  flight; 
Your  arms  and  your  legs  shall  be  strong, 
And  the  years  that  you  live  shall  be  long.' 

"  As  you  may  well  believe,  these  presents,  or  prom- 
ises, made  me  feel  very  comfortable.  I  straightened 
myself  up  and  tried  to  look  taller  than  I  really  was. 
Then  my  godmother  began  to  speak  again.  She  held 
in  her  hand  what  I  took  to  be  a  piece  of  red  flannel, 
but  when  she  unfolded  it  I  saw  that  it  was  a  red  flan- 
nel night-cap,  such  as  I  had  seen  my  great-grand- 
mother wear. 

"  '  Take  this,'  she  said,  '  and  guard  it  carefully. 
When  you  wear  it  at  night  you  will  have  pleasant 
dreams,  and  in  these  dreams  you  will  be  able  to  fore- 
[125] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

see  danger,  and  you  will  be  able  to  foretell  coming 
events.  This  foresight  and  foreknowledge  will  en- 
able you  to  tell  fortunes  and  to  predict  coming 
events.' 

"  I  wish,"  said  Drusilla  suddenly,  "  dat  I  know'd 
when  I  wuz  gwine  ter  git  dinner." 

"Will  you  hush!"  cried  Buster  John.  "Why, 
you'd  spoil  any  story  in  the  world." 

"  She  doesn't  bother  me,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon ; 
"  no,  not  a  bit  more  than  that  child  there."  He 
pointed  to  Billy  Biscuit,  who  was  fast  asleep.  After 
rubbing  his  nose  Wally  Wanderoon  resumed  his  story. 

"  My  godmother,  after  telling  me  about  the  night- 
cap, as  I  have  told  you,  went  on  to  say  that  with  it  on 
my  head  in  the  daytime  I  would  know  who  my  friends 
were,  and  who  my  enemies,  and  that  it  would  be  of 
great  benefit  to  me  in  many  ways  which  I  would  find 
out  for  myself.  In  short,  it  was  the  most  wonderful 
piece  of  flannel  cloth  that  had  ever  been  cut  from  a 
loom — or  would  have  been  if  it  had  been  woven,  for 
when  I  came  to  examine  it,  I  found  that  it  had  been 
knit,  but  its  texture  was  just  as  fine  and  as  close  as  a 
piece  of  cloth  made  on  a  loom.  The  only  way  I  could 
[126] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

tell  it  was  knit  was  because  it  was  all  in  one  piece.  If 
it  had  been  cloth,  you  know,  it  would  have  had  a 
seam  in  it  somewhere. 

"  Well,  my  godmother  gave  me  the  nightcap  and  a 
great  deal  of  good  advice  which  I  have  forgotten,  and 
then  she  bade  me  good-bye.  I  hesitated  about  going, 
for  I  was  afraid  I  couldn't  find  my  way  out  of  the 
forest,  and  I  had  hopes  that  she  would  send  the  mes- 
senger with  me.  She  saw  what  the  trouble  was,  and 
simply  remarked  that  whenever  I  was  in  doubt  about 
anything,  I  must  put  on  the  night-cap.  This  I 
hastened  to  do  when  out  of  sight  of  the  gipsy  camp, 
and  then  a  very  strange  thing  happened.  By  the 
time  I  had  put  the  cap  on,  I  could  see  my  mother 
standing  in  the  door  looking  in  my  direction  to  see  if 
I  was  coming.  She  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand 
and  peered  into  the  forest,  and  her  features  were  as 
plain  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  standing  by  her  side,  and 
I  could  see  she  was  worried. 

"  Now,  you  may  not  believe  me,  but  by  the  time 

I  had  adjusted  my  hat  over  the  cap,  so  as  to  hide  it, 

I  was  standing  in  the  yard,  though  as  it  seemed  to 

me  I  hadn't  moved  out  of  my  tracks.     My  return  was 

[127] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

a  great  relief  to  my  mother,  who  had  no  confidence 
in  the  gipsies,  any  more  than  the  common  run  of  peo- 
ple have  to-day.  She  heard  with  surprise  what  I  had 
to  tell  her,  and  insisted  on  trying  on  the  night-cap, 
but,  somehow  or  other,  she  couldn't  make  it  fit.  No 
matter  how  careful  she  was,  there  was  always  some- 
thing wrong  about  it;  it  would  be  wrong  side  out- 
wards, or  hind  side  before,  or  it  would  fall  out  of  her 
hands  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do ;  and  finally  she  gave 
it  up,  saying  that  she  must  be  getting  old.  But  I 
found  out  afterwards  that  the  cap  would  fit  only  me 
and  one  other — my  enemy.  I  hadn't  met  him  at  that 
time,  and  therefore  I  didn't  know  him. 

"  But  I  came  to  know  him  after  a  while,  and  I  came 
to  know  a  great  many  other  people,  some  good  and 
some  bad.  I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you  all  about 
the  red  flannel  night-cap.  I  had  so  many  adventures 
with  it,  some  queer,  and  some  ridiculous,  that  it 
would  take  me  two  or  three  days  to  tell  them.  The 
fact  is,  I  can't  remember  everything  that  happened ; 
I  only  know  that  from  the  time  the  night-cap  came 
into  my  possession,  I  began  to  find  myself  busy  with 
adventures.  They  followed  on  one  another's  heels  so 
[128] 


The  moon  settling  down. 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

fast  that  there  were  days  when  I  was  sorry  I  had  the 
night-cap,  and  if  I  could  have  seen  my  godmother, 
I  should  have  returned  it  to  her." 

Wally  Wanderoon  paused  and  looked  up  at  the  sky 
— if  it  could  be  called  a  sky — and  seemed  to  be  re- 
flecting. Following  the  direction  of  his  eyes,  Drusilla 
looked  up,  and  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  The 
sky  was  of  a  deep  copper  colour,  and  the  markings 
overhead  were  like  those  she  had  always  observed  on 
the  moon,  only  they  were  a  thousand  times  larger. 
'  Name  er  goodness ! '  she  exclaimed ;  '  I  b'lieve  de 
moon  is  settlin'  down  on  us ! ' 

"Well,  why  not?"  inquired  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  We  are  obliged  to  have  some  kind  of  an  umbrella, 
and  the  moon  is  as  good  as  anything  else." 

"  Dat  may  do  fer  dem  what  usen  ter  dat  sort  er 
nmbrell,  but  me —  I  b'lieve  I'd  a  heap  ruther  git 
wet." 

"  You'll  keep  on  talking  your  foolish  talk,"  said 
Buster  John  scornfully,  "  until  you'll  get  us  into 
trouble,  and  then  who  will  get  us  out?  Aaron  isn't 
here,  and  if  you  can  find  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  you'd  do 
me  a  favour." 

[131] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  I  can't  fin'  'im ;  I  dunner  wharbouts  ter  look," 
said  Drusilla  sadly. 

"  Then  hold  your  tongue ! "  Buster  John  com- 
manded. 

If  Wally  Wanderoon  heard  this  conversation,  he 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  He  kept  on  looking  at  the 
sky,  and  rubbing  his  chin.  Finally  he  turned  to  the 
children.  "  I  was  trying  to  think,"  he  said,  "  what 
to  tell  you  first,  and  I  have  decided  that  my  adventures 
with  my  enemy  will  amuse  you,  for  in  spite  of  all  I 
could  do,  they  turned  out  to  be  about  as  ridiculous  as 
anything  of  the  kind  I  ever  heard  of,  though  they 
seemed  to  be  serious  enough  at  the  time.  I  could  tell 
you  a  hundred  tales  about  that  red  flannel  night-cap, 
and  I  may  tell  you  fifty  or  sixty  now,  but  the  rest 
will  have  to  be  postponed  until  some  other  time.  But 
the  fifty  or  sixty  that  I  propose  to  tell " 

"  To'  dinner?  "  inquired  Drusilla  with  a  frown. 

"  I  can  tell  you  better  about  that  if  you  would 
show  me  the  dinner,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon,  lift- 
ing his  eyebrows  higher  than  ever  and  looking  at 
Drusilla  with  a  comical  smile. 

"  Humph !  I  wish  I  could  show  it  ter  you ;  I  bet 
[  132] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

you  wouldn't  mor'n  git  a  glimp  un  it  'fo'  I'd  gobble 
it  up.  Go  on  an'  tell  de  tales  den ;  I  kin  stan'  um  ef 
dese  chillun,  an'  dat  baby  dar,  kin." 

"  Well,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon,  "  the  name  of  this 
tale  might  well  be  «  Satan's  Snuff-Box,'  but  I  shall 
not  call  it  that.  After  you  have  heard  it,  you  may 
call  it  what  you  please.  Shortly  after  my  godmother 
gave  me  the  red  flannel  night-cap,  my  mother 
wanted  me  to  go  to  the  village  for  some  article  which 
she  needed  about  the  house,  and  so  I  mounted  my 
donkey  and  started  off,  hoping  that  I  would  have  an 
opportunity  to  try  the  virtue  of  my  godmother's  gift. 
If  it  did  nothing  else,  it  gave  me  confidence  in  myself. 
I  was  not  afraid  now  to  go  to  the  village,  and,  in  fact, 
I  would  not  have  been  afraid  to  go  to  the  largest  city 
in  the  world.  It  was  a  curious  change,  too,  for 
previous  to  that  I  had  been  very  shy  of  strangers. 
One  reason  was  my  short  stature;  I  knew  very  well 
that  those  who  were  more  fortunate  in  the  size  and 
shape  of  their  figure,  were  inclined  to  make  sport  of 
me  for  an  affliction — if  you  can  call  it  so — that  I 
couldn't  help;  and  the  thought  of  it  gave  me  great 
pain,  and  caused  me  to  wish  many  and  many  a  time 
[133] 


W ALLY    WANDEROQN 
that  I  might  never  see  a  human  face — I  mean  the  face 
of  a  stranger. 

*'  But,  somehow  or  other,  I  had  suddenly  lost  that 
feeling,  and  so,  when  my  mother  asked  me  if  I  was 
afraid  to  go  to  town  for  her,  I  answered  very  bravely 
that  I  \i  culd  be  glad  to  go.  So  I  saddled  my  donkey, 
and  went  along  the  road  whistling  a  merry  tune,  for 
I  felt  happy.  I  wore  the  red  flannel  night-cap  under 
my  cloth  hat,  and  kept  my  eye  out  for  some  adven- 
ture worthy  of  a  brave  lad. 

"  Suddenly,  in  the  far  distance,  by  the  side  of  the 
road  that  led  over  a  steep  hill,  I  saw  a  carriage.  It 
was  standing  still,  and  I  judged  that  the  heavy  mud, 
occasioned  by  the  rain  that  had  been  falling  for 
many  days,  had  proved  too  much  for  the  strength 
of  the  two  horses.  This  turned  out  to  be  the  fact, 
although  the  horses  were  very  stout.  In  the  coach 
sat  two  ladies,  the  gentleman  who  was  escorting  them 
being  engaged  in  aiding  the  driver  and  the  postilion 
to  drag  the  carriage  from  the  soft  mud  into  which 
the  wheels  had  sunk  to  their  hubs. 

"  Without  any  invitation,  I  jumped  from  my  don- 
key, and  endeavoured  to  help  them  the  best  I  could. 
[134] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

It  seemed  that  my  weight  against  one  of  the  wheels 
was  just  sufficient,  with  the  aid  of  the  horses  and  the 
other  men,  to  move  the  coach,  and  so  it  was  slowly 
dragged  from  the  mud  until  the  wheels  rested  on  firm 
ground.  The  ladies  smiled  their  thanks,  and  the 
gentleman,  forgetting  about  the  weight  of  the 
feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back,  looked  at  me  in 
astonishment.  '  You  have  stout  arms,  my  little  man,' 
he  declared.  *  If  you  grow  stronger  as  you  grow 
older,  you  will  be  a  successor  to  Hercules.' 

"  I  paid  little  attention  to  him,  for  while  he  was 
talking  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  the  town  to 
which  we  were  all  going.  More  than  that,  I  could 
see  the  very  carriage  that  was  standing  by  my  side. 
It  drove  into  the  courtyard  of  an  inn,  and  before 
the  postilion  could  dismount  to  unfasten  the  door, 
several  men  rushed  from  a  rear  room  in  the  inn,  over- 
powered the  gentleman,  and  made  off  with  the  ladies. 
I  saw  all  this  as  plainly  as  I  see  you  children,  and 
I  was  so  taken  up  with  the  strange  scene,  that  the 
gentleman's  words  sounded  as  if  they  came  from  a 
long  way  off.  I  heard  and  understood,  but  still  I 
seemed  to  be  in  the  inn-yard.  It  was  a  very  queer 
[135] 


W ALLY    W ANDEROON 

feeling,  especially  when  I  came  to  myself,  and  found 
the  gentleman's  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"  I  turned  to  him  and  said,  *  Is  there  any  reason, 
sir,  why  certain  men  should  seek  to  seize  the  ladies  in 
the  coach  and  do  injury  to  you?' 

"  *  Why — but  why  do  you  ask  ?  '  If  the  gentle- 
man had  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  driver,  as  he 
spoke  to  me,  he  would  have  had  cause  for  suspicion, 
for  the  coachman's  face  was  white,  and  his  knees 
trembled  under  him.  Being  young  and  unsuspicious 
then,  I  had  no  idea  what  the  trouble  was,  but  I  know 
now  that  he  was  in  the  plot,  and  the  gentleman  would 
have  known  it  too  if  he  had  but  glanced  at  the  man ; 
but  his  attention  was  taken  up  with  me.  '  Why  do 
you  ask  such  a  strange  question?  '  he  repeated. 

"  '  I  can  only  tell  you  this,'  I  replied.  '  When  you 
reach  the  inn  at  which  you  propose  to  stop,  armed 
men  will  rush  from  one  of  the  rear  rooms  when  your 
coach  has  entered  the  courtyard,  seize  the  ladies,  and 
overpower  you.  That  is  as  much  as  I  can  tell  you,  be- 
cause it  is  as  much  as  I  know.' 

"  He  paused  and  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  he 
asked  me  a  hundred  questions.  Seeing  that  I  could 
[136] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

make  no  definite  reply,  he  took  me  aside  and  ques- 
tioned me,  no  doubt  thinking  that  I  was  too  embar- 
rassed to  speak  before  the  others.  But  I  could  only 
tell  him  the  plain  truth — that  I  had  seemed  to  see  the 
attack  on  him  and  the  ladies  take  place  right  before 
my  eyes  while  he  was  talking  to  me,  and  that  I  felt  it 
to  be  my  duty  to  tell  him  about  it. 

"  I  could  see  that  he  was  far  from  believing  in  the 
vision  that  had  appeared  to  me,  but  he  was  more 
thoughtful ;  he  seemed  to  reflect  over  the  information 
I  had  given  him.  '  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the 
warning,'  he  said,  as  he  entered  the  coach.  '  I  shall 
be  prepared  to  give  my  friends  a  warm  reception 
when  they  issue  from  the  inn.'  He  bade  me  good- 
bye very  politely,  and  went  on  his  way.  As  I  was 
going  the  same  road,  I  observed  that  the  coachman 
looked  back  at  me  as  long  as  I  remained  in  sight, 
which  was  not  long,  for  a  pokey  old  donkey  cannot 
be  expected  to  travel  as  fast  as  two  fine  coach-horses. 

"  When  I  came  near  to  the  town,  another  spectacle 
appeared  to  me.  I  could  see  myself  on  my  donkey, 
surrounded  by  several  men,  one  or  two  of  them  gen- 
tlemen, and  the  others  ruffians  of  the  most  approved 
[187] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

pattern.  I  could  not  hear  what  was  said,  but  I  could 
see  by  the  actions  of  all  concerned  that  the  men  were 
charging  me  with  stealing  the  donkey,  while  I  seemed 
to  be  stoutly  denying  the  charge. 

"  I  took  this  for  another  warning,  and  I  made  the 
most  of  it.  I  turned  aside  from  the  road,  tied  the 
donkey  in  a  thick  growth  of  shrubbery,  and  entered 
the  town  by  a  gate  nearly  opposite  to  the  one  that 
opened  on  the  road  by  which  I  had  come.  Once  there, 
I  made  haste  to  procure  the  article  for  which  I  had 
been  sent,  and,  in  a  very  short  time,  I  was  on  my  way 
home  again. 

"  The  next  day  there  was  a  knocking  at  our  door, 
and,  as  such  an  event  occurred  but  seldom,  you  may 
imagine  what  a  sensation  it  caused  around  that 
humble  fireside.  I  ran  to  the  door  to  open  it,  and 
in  the  somewhat  tattered  and  battered  man  who  stood 
there  I  recognised  the  person  who,  the  day  before, 
was  driving  the  gentleman's  coach.  He  had  been 
painfully  wounded  about  the  head  and  face,  but  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  him,  for  I  had  closely 
observed  him  while  the  gentleman  was  talking  to  me. 

"  He  desired,  he  said,  to  hold  a  conversation  with 
[138] 


THE   FLANNEL   NIGHT-CAP 

me,  declaring  that  although  I  had  been  the  cause  of 
his  ruin,  he  bore  me  no  ill-will.  *  What  has  happened 
to  you?'  I  asked.  Instead  of  replying  briefly,  he 
went  into  a  long  narrative  of  his  life.  He  had  been 
very  poor,  and  when  he  was  a  young  man  he  fell  in 
with  bad  companions,  who  in  the  daytime  were  rob- 
bers, and  at  night  burglars.  At  last  he  saw  an  op- 
portunity to  secure  a  place  as  coachman  to  the  gentle- 
man with  whom  I  had  seen  him,  and  he  promptly 
accepted  it,  and  bade  adieu  to  his  former  companions. 
He  was  sensible  enough,  he  said,  not  to  inform  them 
where  he  was  going,  and  he  was  in  hopes  that  they 
would  never  discover  his  whereabouts. 

"  In  the  course  of  time,  however,  they  found  him 
out,  inveigled  him  into  a  plot  to  abduct  the  gentle- 
man's wife  and  sister,  so  that  they  might  be  held  for 
ransom.  He  felt  compelled  to  enter  into  their  scheme, 
he  said,  for  he  knew  that  they  would  expose  him  to 
his  patron,  to  whom  he  was  under  many  obligations. 
He  was  to  take  no  part  in  the  attack,  but  was  to 
stand  by,  pretending  to  be  afraid  while  they 
carried  out  their  plot.  Then  came  the  moment  when 
I  had  informed  his  master  of  what  was  about  to  occur, 
[139] 


WALLY  WANDEROON 
so  that  when  the  coach  drew  up  in  the  courtyard  of 
the  inn,  the  gentleman  was  prepared  for  the  attack, 
and,  being  a  cunning  swordsman,  had  run  three  of 
them  through  almost  before  they  knew  what  was  hap- 
pening, and  the  others,  fearing  a  like  fate  for  them- 
selves, turned  tail  and  fled. 

"  But  they  were  not  so  frightened  that  they  failed 
to  seek  the  coachman  out.  They  were  sure  that  he 
had  betrayed  them,  and  they  went  boldly  to  the  serv- 
ants' apartments  at  the  inn  and  made  inquiries  for 
him.  He  felt  compelled  to  show  himself,  and  when 
he  followed  them  into  the  courtyard,  they  had  seized 
him  and  taken  him  away  a  prisoner.  They  beat  him 
most  unmercifully,  so  he  said,  and  were  on  the  point 
of  killing  him  when  he  implored  them  to  stay  their 
hands  until  he  could  have  an  opportunity  of  proving 
that  he  had  not  betrayed  them.  And  now,  with  that 
purpose  in  view,  he  had  come  to  me  for  both  informa- 
tion and  advice. 

"  The  man  seemed  honest  enough ;  in  fact,  all  the 

time   he  was  relating  his  troubles  he  was  weeping  as 

if  his  heart  would  break,  although  he  appeared  to  be 

too  stout  a  fellow  for  so  many  tears.     I  sympathised 

[140] 


The  fight  in  the   tavern  yard. 


THE   FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

with  him  as  well  as  I  could,  for  I  had  small  confidence 
in  his  good  intentions.  If  I  had  had  any,  it  would 
have  disappeared  when  he  proposed  that  I  should  go 
with  him  to  the  town,  and  assure  his  old  companions 
that  he  had  not  betrayed  them. 

"  Well,  this  struck  me  as  a  pretty  cool  proposition. 
I  had  left  my  red  flannel  night-cap  under  my  pil- 
low that  morning,  and  so,  before  accepting  or  refus- 
ing his  invitation,  I  thought  it  would  be  well  to  place 
it  on  my  head  under  my  hat.  I  excused  myself  a  mo- 
ment, and  when  I  came  back  I  knew  that  the  best 
thing  I  could  do  would  be  to  pretend  to  fall  in  with 
his  plans,  for,  looking  from  under  the  red  flannel 
night-cap,  I  could  see  that  the  companions  of  this 
man  were  stationed  in  a  wood  not  far  away,  and  were 
ready  to  pounce  out  and  capture  me  if  the  fellow 
could  prevail  on  me  to  accompany  him.  I  could  also 
see  that  a  party  of  constables,  accompanied  by  the 
gentleman  who  had  been  attacked  in  the  coach,  were 
setting  out  from  the  city,  with  the  intention  of  cap- 
turing these  bandits — at  least  I  supposed  that  such 
was  their  intention. 

"  With  the  purpose  of  astonishing  the  robber,  who 
[143] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

had  been  playing  the  coachman,  I  asked  him  why  he 
told  me  that  his  companions  were  awaiting  him  in  the 
town,  when,  in  fact,  they  were  concealed  in  a  wood 
some  distance  outside  of  town.  His  face  fell  at  this, 
and  he  quickly  asked  how  I  knew  that  this  was  so. 
'  I  know  it,'  said  I, '  in  the  same  way  that  I  knew  what 
your  fellows  would  have  done  if  I  had  entered  the 
town  by  the  south  highway  yesterday.'  '  If  you  are 
a  conjurer,'  he  said,  edging  away,  '  I  want  nothing 
more  to  do  with  you.' 

"  '  I  am  conjurer  enough  to  know  that  it  is  a  very 
good  thing  for  you  that  you  came  here,  for  in  the 
course  of  half  an  hour  your  fellows  will  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  officers  of  the  law.  They  have  already 
set  out  from  the  town,  and  as  your  ruffians  are  only 
trying  to  conceal  themselves  from  those  who  pass 
along  the  road  in  this  direction,  they  will  be  finely 
surprised  by  the  posse  that  is  searching  for  them.' 

"  *  Are  you  a  wizard?'  exclaimed  the  man.  *  If 
you  are,  I  ask  ten  thousand  pardons  for  disturbing 
Your  Worship.' 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  had  a  touch  of  vain  pride  when 
the  fellow  assumed  this  attitude  of  humility;  and 


The  royue  changes  into  a  rolling  ball. 


THE  FLANNEL  NIGHT-CAP 
vanity  will  make  a  fool  of  anyone.  I  lost  my  senses 
for  a  moment  and  became  boastful.  '  I  have  some- 
thing here,'  I  said,  uncovering  my  head,  and  exposing 
the  red  flannel  night-cap,  *  that  will  go  farther 
than  all  your  wizards  and  your  witches.'  '  You  don't 
say  so,  Master ! '  exclaimed  the  fellow.  '  Why,  it  is 
nothing  but  a  red  flannel  night -cap,'  he  said,  coming 
closer.  Before  I  could  raise  my  hand  or  even  realise 
what  he  had  done,  he  made  a  spring  toward  me,  and 
snatched  the  magic  cap  from  my  head.  As  he  did  so, 
he  turned  and  ran,  and  as  he  ran  he  placed  the  cap 
on  his  head. 

"  The  moment  he  did  this  he  disappeared,  and  a 
rolling  ball  took  his  place.  I  followed  as  fast  as  I 
could,  but  the  ball  kept  rolling  faster  than  I  could 
go.  It  grew  larger  as  it  rolled,  and  presently  it  rose 
in  the  air,  and  floated  off  in  the  direction  of  the  town. 
I  was  so  eager  to  recover  the  red  flannel  night-cap 
that  I  forgot  all  about  the  man's  companions,  who 
were  waiting  for  me  in  the  wood.  As  it  floated,  the 
ball  followed  the  turns  of  the  road,  and  it  did  not  fly 
through  the  air  so  fast  that  I  could  not  keep  in  sight 
of  it.  When  I  grew  too  tired  to  run  farther  the 
[14,7] 


W ALLY    W ANDEROON 

floating  ball  grew  slower  in  its  movements,  and  ap- 
peared to  accommodate  itself  to  my  weary  effort  to 
follow. 

"  At  a  certain  point  in  the  road,  it  came  closer  to 
the  ground,  and  presently  burst  with  a  muffled  noise, 
filling  the  air  with  what  I  took  to  be  smoke,  but  which 
I  presently  discovered  was  a  black  powdery  stuff 
such  as  you  see  in  the  round  mushrooms  that  grow 
in  the  fields.  They  are  called  Satan's  snuff-boxes  all 
over  the  world.  When  the  powdery  stuff  cleared 
away,  I  discovered  the  fellow  who  had  stolen  my  red 
flannel  night-cap  sitting  on  the  ground  sneezing  as 
if  he  would  never  stop.  Not  far  away  were  his  com- 
panions, and  they  were  in  the  custody  of  the  officers 
of  the  law.  .  The  gentleman  who  had  been  attacked 
on  the  coach  was  with  them.  In  a  moment  they  had 
surrounded  the  fellow  who  had  robbed  me,  but  he  paid 
no  attention  to  them,  and  made  no  reply  to  the  ques- 
tions that  were  asked  him.  He  could  not  talk  for 
sneezing. 

"  '  A  rope  around  his  neck  will  cure  that,'  said  the 
gentleman.     Then,  seeing  me,  he  thanked  me  over  and 
over  again  for  the  warning  I  had  given  him.     He 
[148] 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

said  that  if  I  ever  came  to  the  city  which  was  his 
home,  he  would  be  glad  to  entertain  me  at  his  house, 
and  he  gave  me  a  handsome  reward  for  the  service  I 
had  rendered  him.  In  short,  everything  fell  out  as 
finely  as  events  do  in  the  story  books." 

"  But  what  became  of  the  red  flannel  night-cap?  " 
inquired  Buster  John. 

"  You  see  what  a  poor  story-teller  I  am,"  replied 
Wally  Wanderoon.  "  Well,  when  the  ball  burst,  the 
Red  Flannel  Night-Cap  was  flung  into  the  top  of  a 
tall  pine.  While  I  was  searching  for  it,  and  doubting 
if  I  would  ever  find  it,  I  heard  a  crow  making  a  pecu- 
liar noise.  At  first  I  could  not  see  where  he  was,  but 
presently  he  rose  in  the  air  with  something  in  his 
beak,  and  I  immediately  recognised  my  red  flannel 
night-cap.  It  was  almost  too  heavy  for  the  crow  to 
carry,  and  he  flew  lower  and  lower.  I  followed  him 
till  he  lit  on  a  smaller  tree,  and  when  he  started  to 
fly  again  I  clapped  my  hands  and  shouted.  This 
frightened  the  crow  so  that  he  dropped  my  red  flannel 
night-cap  and  flew  away." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Wally  Wanderoon 
[149] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

asked  the  children  what  they  thought  of  the  story. 
They  were  not  as  enthusiastic  about  it  as  the  droll 
little  man  could  desire.  Drusilla  was  especially  cool, 
and  she  was  the  only  one  who  replied  to  the  question. 
"  It's  a  tale,"  she  said,  with  something  like  a  sneer. 

"  Can  you  tell  a  better  one?  "  asked  Wally  Wan- 
deroon,  looking  at  her  with  a  frown  on  one  side  of  his 
face,  and  a  smile  on  the  other. 

"  Not  here,  not  in  dis  place,"  she  replied.  "  Not 
nowheres  when  I'm  hongry." 

"  Me  hongry  too,"  said  Billy  Biscuit,  waking  up. 
"  Me  want  mine  dinner  wight  now." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon.  "You 
shall  have  it  at  once.  Wake  up  here,  everybody !  It 
is  dinner  time !  We  want  our  dinner !  Serve  this 
very  instant ! " 

The  children  never  knew  how  it  happened,  but  be- 
fore they  could  wink  their  eyes  more  than  three  times, 
there  was  the  dinner  smoking  hot.  It  was  served  on 
top  of  the  box  or  cage  in  which  the  professional  story- 
teller was  confined.  Sweetest  Susan  was  hungry,  but 
she  was  not  satisfied  to  eat  while  the  story-teller  was 
in  the  box,  and  she  said  as  much. 
[150] 


The  story  teller  getting  close  to  nature 


THE    FLANNEL    NIGHT-CAP 

"  Well,  get  him  out  if  you  can  find  him,"  said 
Wally  Wanderoon.  But  when  Sweetest  Susan  tapped 
gently  on  the  box,  and  called  to  the  story-teller,  she 
could  get  no  reply.  "  Go  around  to  the  other  side, 
and  see  if  he's  there,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  My 
opinion  is  that  he  has  had  his  dinner,  and  is  now  fast 
asleep  on  the  side  of  one  of  these  hills.  He  says  he 
is  very  much  in  love  with  Nature,  but  when  he  gets 
close  to  her  he  always  goes  to  sleep." 

Sweetest  Susan  found  the  box  empty,  and  the 
thought  that  the  story-teller  had  had  his  dinner  gave 
her  a  better  appetite.  All  of  the  children  were  hun- 
gry, and  they  did  ample  justice  to  the  food  which 
had  been  set  before  them,  they  knew  not  how,  and 
when  they  finished  they  were  in  a  much  better  humour 
than  before.  They  were  prepared  to  listen  patiently 
to  the  dullest  story  that  was  ever  invented.  Wally 
Wanderoon  lost  no  time  in  inviting  Drusilla  to  tell 
a  story,  and  he  advised  her  to  tell  the  best  one  she 
could  think  of. 

"  Huh ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  "  you  sholy  don't 
speck  me  ter  tell  no  good  story  in  dish  yer  place  whar 
de  hills  runs  bofe  backerds  an'  forrerds,  an'  whar  you 
[  153  I 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

hatter  crawl  sideways  fer  ter  keep  fum  fallin'  down 
hill  whichever  way  you  turn." 

Drusilla's  desire  was  to  tell  no  story  at  all,  but  she 
finally  told  one  which  for  many  years  had  been  popu- 
lar with  negro  girls  between  the  ages  of  twelve  and 
twenty.  It  may  be  called 


[15*] 


VII 
MISS   LIZA   AN'    DE    KING 

££f  TELL  you-all  right  now,"  said  Drusilla, 
I  "  I  dunner  nothin'  'tall  'bout  dis  tale  but  de 
tellin'  un  it.  I  dunner  wharde  folks  live  at, 
ner  what  dey  wuz  doin'  dar,  ner  whar  dey  come  fum, 
ner  whar  dey  wuz  gwine.  In  de  tale  dey's  a  king, 
but  I  dunner  wharbouts  he  wuz  a-kingin'  it  at.  Ef 
you  want  ter  know  de  name  er  de  country  an'  what 
kinder  folks  dey  wuz,  you'll  hatter  choosen  a  name 
fer  ter  suit  you,  an'  figger  all  de  ballance  out  in  yo' 
own  min'." 

Having  relieved  herself  of  all  responsibility  in  the 
matter,  Drusilla  hung  her  head,  and  began  to  twist 
one  corner  of  her  apron.  She  was  dreadfully  shy,  a 
fact  that  did  not  appear  in  her  somewhat  abrupt 
manner  of  speaking,  nor  in  her  downright  way  of 
commenting  on  what  attracted  her  attention.  Finally, 
seeing  that  there  was  no  way  out  of  it,  she  began: 

"  Well,  one  time  dey  wuz  a  King,  an'  he  wuz  a 
[155] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

mighty  man.  He  fit  here,  an'  he  fout  dar,  an'  he  kep' 
on  doin'  dataway,  twel  bimeby  he  got  tired  er 
strowin'  de  face  er  de  yeth  wid  dead  folks,  an'  he  tuck 
de  idee  dat  he  better  settle  down  an'  see  ef  he  can't 
do  some  good  in  de  worP.  I  dunner  whedder  he  wuz 
white  er  cullud,  but  he  wuz  free,  an'  my  daddy  say 
dat  when  youer  free  youer  des  ez  good  ez  anybody 
else  an'  a  heap  better.  He  aint  only  free,  he  wuz 
de  King  er  dat  country,  wharsomever  'twuz,  des  like  I 
tell  you;  an'  he  didn't  had  ter  work  ef  he  don't 
wanter. 

"  Well,  it  went  on  twel  he  got  tired  er  killin'  folks, 
an'  he  say  ter  hisse'f  he  b'lieve  he'll  look  aroun',  an' 
see  ef  he  can't  git  a  job  what  dey's  mo'  fun  in  dan 
dey  is  in  fightin'.  So  he  looked  aroun',  de  King  did, 
an'  bimeby  he  axt  one  er  de  ol'  men  'bout  it.  De  ol' 
man,  he  sorter  comb  his  long  grey  beard  wid  his 
finger  nails,  an'  atter  while  he  ax  de  King  ef  he  yever 
think  'bout  Parnin'  a  trade.  De  King  ax  him  what  he 
mean,  an'  de  ol'  man  say  dat  'cordin'  ter  his  notion,  a 
man,  king  er  no  king,  can  do  mo'  good  by  makin'  a 
pair  er  shoes  dan  he  kin  by  killin'  a  man. 

"  Dis  made  de  King  bite  his  thumb.  De  ol'  man 
[156] 


MISS   LIZA    AN*   DE   KING 

wuz  one  er  de  smartest  men  in  all  de  whole  settlement, 
an'  when  dey  wuz  big  things  ter  talk  about,  he  wuz 
allers  one  er  de  fust  ones  dey  went  ter  hear.  So  de 
King,  he  stood  dar,  he  did,  an'  bite  his  thumb.  Atter 
while,  he  'low,  '  How  long  will  it  take  a  man  fer  ter 
1'arn  de  shoemakin'  trade?'  De  ol'  man — I  dunner 
what  his  name  wuz — he  make  answer  dat  a  right 
bright  man  mought  1'arn  it  in  six  er  sev'm  mont's, 
but  he  speck  it  '11  take  de  King  'bout  a  year.  Den  de 
King  wanter  know  whar  de  best  place  fer  ter  1'arn 
shoemakin',  an'  de  ol'  man,  he  say  dat  he  got  a  shop 
er  his  own,  an'  he'll  be  glad  ter  show  'im  all  de  ins  an' 
outs  er  de  business. 

"  But  still  de  King  bite  his  thumb.  He  'low,  '  Who 
gwineter  do  de  kingin'  whilst  I'm  makin'  shoes  ?  '  De 
ol'  man  say  dat  aint  nothin',  kaze  it's  a  heap  harder 
fer  ter  make  a  good  pair  er  shoes  dan  what  it  is  fer 
ter  do  de  kingin'  when  dey's  so  many  ter  he'p  'im, 
an'  he  say  dat  it's  a  mighty  slack-wadded  man  what 
can't  do  de  kingin'  an'  1'arn  how  ter  make  shoes  at 
de  same  time.  So  de  King,  he  'low  dat  he'd  try  his 
han'  one  whet  ef  it  killed  eve'y  cow  in  de  island." 

"  Killed  every  cow  in  the  island ! "  exclaimed 
[157] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

Wally  Wanderoon.  "  What  on  earth  did  he  mean  by 
that?" 

"  It's  des  a  sayin',"  replied  Drusilla.  "  He  mean 
he  gwinter  1'arn  in  spite  er  anything.  Well,  de  nex' 
mornin',  he  got  up  bright  an'  early,  an'  had  a  soon 
brekfus,  an'  whilst  he  wuz  pickin'  his  toofies,  he  tol' 
his  folks,  and  dem  what  holp  him  do  de  kingin',  dat 
he  wuz  gwineter  spen'  de  day  out,  an'  he  wouldn't  be 
home  'fo'  night.  Den  he  went  in  a  little  outhouse 
dey  had  on  de  place,  an'  put  on  a  rough  suit  er  cloze, 
an'  put  out  fer  de  shop  whar  de  oP  man  an'  his  men 
made  shoes. 

"  When  de  King  got  dar,  dey  wuz  all  dar  an'  peg- 
gin'  away  des  ez  hard  ez  dey  kin.  A  young  'oman 
met  'im  at  de  door,  an'  she  'low,  *  Aint  you  de  new 
man  what  my  daddy  gwineter  1'arn  how  ter  make 
shoes  ?  '  De  King,  he  make  answer  dat  he  wuz.  Wid 
dat,  de  gal  toss  her  head,  an'  say, '  Well,  you'll  hatter 
git  a  quicker  lick  dan  dat.  My  daddy  aint  gwineter 
have  no  fiddlin'  'roun'  an'  hangin'  back.  Dar's  yo' 
bench  right  over  dar  in  de  cornder,  whar  nobody  won't 
bodder  you,  an'  you  won't  bodder  nobody.  De  King, 
he  look  at  de  gal  an'  'low,  '  I  b'lieve  I'd  1'arn  twice  ez 
[158] 


MISS    LIZA    AN'    DE    KING 

quick  ef  I  had  you  fer  ter  show  me  ' — desso.  De  gal, 
she  make  a  low  bow  " — Drusilla  caught  hold  of  her 
dress  and  showed  how  it  was  done,  and  her  mimicry 
was  so  droll  and  comical  that  the  others  laughed 
heartily — "  de  gal  she  make  a  low  bow  an'  say,  *  I 
thank  you  mightly,  but  ef  you'll  scuzen  me  I'll  be 
much  erbleege ! '  De  King,  he  look  at  her  an'  laugh. 
He  say  he  dunner  whedder  he'll  scuzen  her  er  not. 
Wid  dat  she  flirted  out,  ripe  mad,  an'  bimeby  de 
Daddy  come  in,  lookin'  mighty  sollum. 

"  He  looked  'roun',  he  did,  an'  'low,  so  dey  all  kin 
hear  'im,  *  Some  er  you-all  been  sassin'  Miss  Liza,  an' 
it's  got  ter  stop  'fo'  it  begins  good.  Miss  Liza  is  my 
onliest  daughter,  an'  de  nex'  time  one  er  you-all 
sassies  her  I'm  gwinter  tell  de  King,  an'  I  boun'  you 
he'll  put  a  stop  ter  de  whole  business.  Me  an'  de  King 
is  good  frien's,  kaze  I  had  a  confab  wid  him  no 
longer'n  yistiddy.' 

"  *  I  seed  you  when  you  wuz  confabbin'  wid  de 
King,'  de  new  man  say.  Now  you-all  mustn't  fergit 
dat  dish  yer  new  man  in  de  shop  wuz  de  King  hisse'f," 
remarked  Drusilla  confidentially.  "  De  new  man  say, 
*  I  seed  you,  an'  I  'low'd  ter  myse'f  dat  de  King  aint 
[159] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

so  much  nicer  an'  purtier  dan  what  some  yuther  folks 
is.5 

"  «  Dat's  ez  may  be,'  de  ol'  shoemaker  say,  '  but  ef 
any  er  you-all  up  an'  sassy  Miss  Liza,  I'll  run  right 
straight  an'  tell  de  King.' 

"  '  Ef  I  wuz  in  yo'  place,'  de  King  say,  '  I  wouldn't 
do  nothin'  er  de  kin' ;  I'd  des  sen'  a  man  atter  de  King 
an'  tell  'im  you  wanter  see  'im.' 

"  *  Wid  dat,  de  ol'  shoemaker  went  on  in  de  front 
er  de  shop  whar  he  had  shoes  fer  ter  sell.  Miss  Liza, 
she  wuz  lis'nin'  at  de  door,  an'  when  she  hear  de  new 
man  talkin'  so  familious  like  'bout  de  King,  she 
say  ter  herse'f  dat  whatsomever  else  he  may  be 
skeer'd  un,  he  sholy  aint  skeer'd  er  de  King;  an'  de 
way  she  put  it  down  wuz  dat  a  man  what  want 
skeer'd  er  de  King  want  skeer'd  er  nothin'. 

"  So,  'twan't  long  'fo'  she  make  out  she  had  some 
business  in  de  shop,  an'  whilst  she  in  dar  she  look  at 
de  new  man,  an'  she  aint  had  ter  look  but  once  'fo' 
she  seed  dat  he  aint  know  no  mo'  'bout  makin'  shoes 
dan  de  man  in  de  moon.  She  'low,  '  Who  1'arnt  you 
how  ter  make  shoes?  '  He  say,  '  Yo'  daddy  say  he 
gwinter  1'arn  me  how,  but  you  see  how  'tis — he  think 
[160] 


Bobby  de  Raw  and  the  shoemaker's  daughter. 


MISS  LIZA  AN*  DE  KING 
mos'  ez  much  er  de  King  ez  he  do  er  me.'  Miss  Liza 
kinder  bridle  up  at  dis.  She  'low,  '  It's  a  mighty 
good  thing  de  King  can't  hear  you  puttin'  yo'se'f  up 
on  de  same  flatform  wid  him.'  '  Maybe  dat's  so,'  de 
new  man  say,  *  but  eve'y  word  you  hear  me  say  'bout 
de  King,  I'll  say  ter  his  face ;  an'  mo'  dan  dat,  ef  he 
wuz  ter  fool  wid  me,  I'd  pull  his  whiskers  fer  him. 
I  has  done  it  'fo'  now.'  Wid  dat,  he  gun  his  own 
whiskers  a  twitch. 

"  Well,  Miss  Liza,  she  fetched  a  gasp,  an'  stood  dar 
lookin'  at  de  man.  She  'low,  *  Does  you  mean  ter 
set  dar  flatfooted  an'  tell  me  dat  you  done  pull  de 
King's  whiskers  ?  '  De  man  make  answer, '  Dat's  what 
I  said,  an'  ef  you  don't  b'lieve  me,  you  fetch  de  King 
here  whar  I  kin  git  my  hands  on  him.'  Miss  Liza 
cotch  her  breff  ag'in,  an'  stood  dar  lookin'  at  de  man. 
She  wuz  done  struck  dumb  by  de  way  he  talk.  Den 
she  happen  ter  see  dat  de  man  han'  wuz  bleedin',  an' 
she  whirl  roun'  dar,  an'  fix  him  up  a  little  flap  er 
leather  fer  ter  fit  de  pan  er  his  han',  an'  whilst  she 
wuz  'bout  it,  she  showed  him  how  ter  use  de  awl  an'  de 
hammer,  an'  how  ter  put  de  hog  bristle  in  de  th'ead, 
an'  how  ter  make  de  holes  fer  de  pegs. 
[163] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  De  man  wuz  a  King,  but  dat  aint  bender  him  fum 
Parnin'  fer  ter  be  a  shoemaker — it  mought  er  holp 
him  on.  Miss  Liza  never  had  1'arnt,  an'  yit  she  could 
set  right  down  an'  make  a  shoe  wid  de  best  un  urn. 
De  new  man,  which  wuz  de  King,  he  ax  Miss  Liza  ef 
she  show  all  de  yuthers  how  ter  make  shoes.  She  toss 
her  head  an'  stick  out  her  chin,  an'  ax  de  man  ef  he 
aint  sorter  weak  in  de  head.  Den  she  laugh,  an'  run 
out'n  de  room. 

"  When  dinner  time  come,  all  de  yuthers  stop  work, 
an'  tuck  der  baskets  an'  went  out  in  de  yard,  an'  set 
in  de  sun,  an'  et  der  dinners — all  cep'  de  King.  Not 
.bein'  use  ter  dem  kinder  doin's,  he  had  come  off  wid- 
out  fetchin'  his  dinner,  an'  so  he  sot  der  an'  ham- 
mered on  de  shoes  whilst  de  yuthers  wuz  'joy in' 
deyse'f.  Miss  Liza,  settin'  at  de  table,  hear  de  ham- 
mer gwine,  an'  she  ax  her  daddy  who  wuz  dat  workin' 
when  dey  oughter  be  eatin'.  De  ol'  man,  he  wag  his 
head  an'  laugh,  an'  say  it  mus'  be  de  new  man. 

"  Miss  Liza,  she  jump  up  fum  de  table,  an'  run  an' 

peep  thoo  de  shop  door,  an'  sho  miff,  dar  wuz  de  new 

man  peggin'  away  at  de  shoes,  an'  workin'  like  some 

un  wuz  drivin'  'im.     Den  she  went  in.    De  King  hear 

[164] 


MISS  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING 
de  noise  she  make,  but  he  aint  look  up.  He  des  went 
on  wid  his  work  like  dey  want  nothin'  in  de  worl'  dat 
smell  like  dinner.  Miss  Liza,  she  say,  *  Why,  don't 
you  eat  yo'  dinner  wid  de  rest  un  um?  '  De  King,  he 
'low,  '  Dey  aint  none  un  um  ax  me.'  Den.  Miss  Liza 
say,  *  Why  n't  you  fetch  yo'  own  dinner?  '  De  King 
'low,  '  Why,  I  come  off  dis  mornin'  an'  clean  fergot 
it.'  '  It's  a  wonder,'  Miss  Liza  say,  '  dat  you  didn't 
fergit  yo'  hat.'  De  King  laugh,  an'  den  he  'low, 
'  Dai  des  zackly  what  I  went  an'  done,  an'  I  had  ter  go 
way  back  atter  it;  dat  how  come  I  wuz  so  late.'  He 
look  at  her  an'  she  look  at  him,  an'  den  he  laugh,  an' 
dis  look  like  it  make  her  git  red  in  de  face. 

"  She  say,  *  You  got  mighty  brazen  eyes.'  He  'low, 
'  You  got  mighty  purty  ones.'  She  say,  '  Don't  be 
impident.'  He  'low, '  A  hongry  man  '11  say  mos'  any- 
thing.' Wid  dat,  she  whipt  out  er  de  room,  an* 
bimeby  here  she  come  back  wid  a  tray  full  er 
vittles,  an'  sot  it  down  by  him.  He  look  at  her  right 
hard,  an'  'low,  '  When  I  git  ter  be  King,  I'll  make  you 
de  Queen.'  '  Well,  'taint  no  mo'  dan  I  speck,'  she 
say,  'kaze  a  fortune-teller  tol'  me  one  day  dat  ef  I'd 
be  good  an'  quit  my  behavishness  I'd  marry  high,  an' 
[165] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

live  well.  She  say  dat  my  ol'  man  would  be  a  good 
pervider,  an'  gi'  me  nice  cloze  ter  w'ar.  But  I  tell 
you  right  now  dat  I  aint  gwineter  marry  no  shoe- 
maker, kaze  ever  sence  I  been  born  I  been  smellin' 
leather,  an'  shoemaker's  wax,  an'  mo'  dan  dat,  I  been 
hearin'  dem  shoe  hammers  tell  it  look  like  sometimes 
dey'll  run  me  crazy.  No,  siree!  no  shoemaker  fer 
me!' 

"  De  King,  he  et  his  dinner  slow,  an'  smack  his 
mouf.  He  'low  dat  he  aint  had  sech  a  good  dinner 
sence  de  day  befo',  an'  Miss  Liza,  she  look  at  him  fer 
ter  see  what  he  mean,  an'  he  look  back  at  her  tell  she 
hatter  break  out  in  a  big  laugh.  She  say,  *  Whatever 
you  is  er  mought  be,  you  aint  no  shoemaker,  kaze  you 
dunner  how  ter  make  a  shoe.  Purty  nigh  all  de  work 
you  done  dar  is  teetotally  wrong,  an'  it  '11  all  hatter 
be  ripped  out  an'  done  over  ag'in.  Mo'  dan  dat,  you 
aint  never  done  no  hard  work,  kaze  yo'  han'  saft,  an' 
yo'  finger-nails  look  like  you  got  somebody  fer  ter 
take  keer  un  urn.' 

"  De  King,  he  et  his  vittles  an'  smack  his  mouf,  an' 
den  he  look  at  Miss  Liza  an'  she  look  at  him,  an' 
bimeby  she  hear  her  daddy  callin'  her  ter  dinner.  De 
[166] 


MISS  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING 
King,  he  'low,  *  You'll  hatter  scuzen  me  fer  keepin' 
you  f um  yo'  dinner ;  I'm  mighty  sorry.'  Miss  Liza, 
she  toss  her  head  at  dat  an'  say,  *  Well,  you  neenter 
be  sorry.  I  hope  you  aint  got  de  idee  in  yo'  head  dat 
I  was  stayin'  out  here  kaze  you  er  here.  Ef  you  is 
you  git  you  a  fine-toof  comb  an'  git  it  out.'  De  King, 
he  'low,  '  Oh,  no ;  I  aint  got  no  idee  like  dat.  I  don't 
even  b'lieve  dat  you  fotch  me  any  vittles  out  here.  It 
wuz  fer  some  un  else.'  Miss  Liza  bein'  kinder  high- 
falutin,  want  use  ter  dat  kinder  talk.  She  start  fer 
ter  say  sump'n  sassy,  but  des  den  she  hear  her  daddy 
call  her,  an'  she  say,  '  Yasser,  I'm  comin' ! '  an'  when 
she  turn  fer  ter  look  back  de  King  wuz  des  a-laughin' 
fit  ter  kiU. 

"  When  she  got  back  in  de  dinin'-room,  she  ax  her 
daddy  who  de  new  man  is  er  mought  be.  Her  daddy 
make  answer  dat  de  new  man  mought  be  a  heap  er 
folks,  but  he  aint.  Den  Miss  Liza  ax  what  de  new 
man  name,  an'  her  daddy  say  dat  so  fur  ez  he  know, 
de  man  is  name  Bobby  Raw.  Dis  make  Miss  Liza 
laugh,  an'  she  say  ter  herse'f  dat  she'd  tell  de  yuther 
men  'bout  de  name,  an'  see  ef  dey  can't  have  some  fun 
out  er  de  new  man,  which  he  know  des  ez  much 
[167] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

'bout  makin'  shoes  ez  he  did  'bout  makin'  moon- 
shine. 

"  But  she  f ergot  about  it  atter  dinner,  an'  she  f er- 
got about  it  de  nex'  mornin'.  De  new  man  come,  but 
still  he  aint  bring  no  dinner.  Miss  Liza  ax  him  what 
de  reason  he  aint  fetch  his  dinner-basket.  De  new 
man  'low  dat  dey  aint  no  use  fer  ter  be  fetchin' 
vittles  ter  dat  house  whar  dey  wuz  sech  a  saft-hearted 
an'  purty  young  'oman  ready  fer  ter  fix  up  dinner  fer 
whomsoever  mought  be  hongry. 

"  Miss  Liza  'low,  *  Well,  dat's  whar  youer  mighty 
much  mistaken.  I  gi'  you  yo'  dinner  yistiddy,  kaze 
I  wuz  sorry  fer  you,  but  I  aint  gwine  ter  gi'  you  none 
ter-day,  kaze  you  done  had  time  fer  ter  make  all  de 
'rangerments.'  De  new  man,  which  he  wuz  de  King, 
say, '  You  aint  sorry  now,  Miss  Liza,  but  you  will  be. 
You'll  see  me  settin'  here  pickin'  my  toofies  wid  a  hog 
bristle,  an'  you'll  say  ter  yo'se'f  dat  you  can't  let  a 
poor  lonesome  man  go  hongry  right  here  whar  dey's 
so  much  vittles ;  an'  den  you'll  go  ter  de  table  an'  fix 
up  a  nice  dinner  an'  fetch  it  out,  an'  it  '11  be  all  de 
nicer  bekaze  you  fixed  it  an'  fetched  it.' 

"  Miss  Liza  say,  *  Uh-uh,  man,  you  fool  yo'se'f.  I 
[168] 


MISS  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING 
can't  be  robbin'  my  daddy,  des  kaze  youer  too  lazy 
fer  ter  fetch  yo'  own  dinner.'  De  new  man  'low, 
*  Den  I  reckon  I'll  hatter  'pen'  on  de  King.  Maybe 
he'll  be  good  nuff  fer  ter  sen'  me  my  dinner.  I  know 
mighty  well  he'd  sen'  it  ef  he  know'd  de  fix  I'm  in.' 

"  Miss  Liza,  she  laugh  fit  ter  kill.  She  say,  '  Well, 
den,  when  de  King  sen'  you  yo'  dinner,  I'll  put  it  on 
de  table  fer  you,  an'  maybe  I'll  he'p  you  eat  it.'  De 
King  say,  '  You'll  sholy  be  welcome,  Miss  Liza ;  none 
mo'  so;  but  I  aint  so  mighty  certain  dat  de  King's 
cook  is  any  better  dan  de  one  what  fixes  up  de  vittles 
in  dis  house.' 

"  Dis  make  Miss  Liza  blush,  kaze  she  wuz  de  one 
what  done  de  cookin',  an'  she  sho  did  do  it  well,  des 
like  de  King  say.  She  low, '  Well,  of  all  de  men  what 
my  daddy  hire,  youer  de  freest  wid*  yo'  tongue,  an' 
ef  he  know'd  how  you  went  on,  he'd  sen'  you  packin' 
out  er  dis  house.'  De  King  say,  *  I  hear  'im  comin' 
now,  an'  ef  you  don't  tell  'im  I'll  tell  'im  myse'f.' 
Miss  Liza  got  red  in  de  face.  She  wuz  madder  dan 
a  settin'  hen.  She  shuck  her  finger  at  de  new  man, 
an'  low, '  Ef  you  say  a  word  ter  my  daddy,  you'll  not 
git  no  dinner  here  dis  day — you  hear  dat ! ' 
[169] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Well,  de  ol'  shoemaker,  he  come  in  'bout  dat  time, 
an'  he  look  'roun',  he  did,  an'  ax  how  dey  all  gittin' 
on  wid  der  work.  He  look  at  de  new  man,  which  he 
wuz  de  King,  an'  he  'low, '  You  don't  seem  cut  out  f  er 
ter  make  shoes;  you  done  got  dat  sole  on  hin'  side 
befo',  an'  I  be  bless  ef  you  aint  got  de  heel  on  de  toe.' 
De  new  man  say,  '  Taint  dat  de  sole's  on  hin'  side 
befo' ;  it's  de  way  Miss  Liza  tell  me  f  er  ter  put  de  last,' 

"  Miss  Liza  say,  *  Aint  you  'shame  er  yo'se'f  ?  I 
never  tol'  you  how  ter  put  no  last.  Don't  you  b'lieve 
'im,  daddy.'  De  ol'  shoemaker,  he  laugh  an'  say  dat 
not  sence  Miss  Liza  been  born  has  she  been  so  much  in 
love  wid  shoemakin'  ez  durin'  de  las'  two  er  th'ee  days. 
'  I  noticed  it  yistiddy,'  he  say,  '  an'  I'm  havin'  a  new 
bench  made  fer  'er,  an'  I'm  gwinter  put  it  in  de 
cornder  dar  so  she  kin  show  you-all  how  ter  make  a 
shoe.' 

"  Dis  kinder  talk  rile  Miss  Liza  so  dat  she  flirt  out 
er  de  room,  an'  nobody  don't  see  'er  in  de  shop  tell 
atter  de  dinner  bell  rung.  When  she  looked  in,  all 
de  hands  had  done  gone  out  in  de  sunshine  fer  ter 
eat  der  dinner,  ceppin'  de  new  man,  an'  he  wuz  settin' 
dar  makin'  shoes  backerds,  an'  puttin'  pegs  in  de 
[170] 


Arrival  of  the  King's  dinner. 


MISS  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING 
wrong  place,  an'  doin'  purty  nigh  everything  dat  a 
shoemaker  wouldn't  er  done — but  he  aint  got  no  din- 
ner. Miss  Liza  'low,  '  De  King  done  fergot  fer  ter 
sen'  yo'  dinner,  I  reckon.'  De  new  man  say,  *  Gi'  'im 
time,  des  gi'  'im  time ;  an'  ef  he  f  ergit  ter  sen'  it,  why 
we'll  know  dat  only  one  out  er  many  is  settin*  here 
hongry.' 

"  Wid  dat,  Miss  Liza  got  blazin'  mad.  She  flirted 
'roun'  de  shop  a  time  er  two,  and  'low,  *  You  aint  fit 
ter  have  no  dinner,  an'  dis  de  las'  time  I'm  gwine  ter 
fix  you  any.  I  don't  see  what  you  come  yer  fer  any- 
how. You  know  mighty  well  dat  you  couldn't  make 
a  shoe  ef  yo'  life  'pended  on  it.  You  aint  been  here 
two  days  yit,  an'  you  done  gi'  me  mo'  worry  dan  all 
de  rest  er  han's  put  tergedder.' 

"  Well,  des  about  dat  time,  dey  wuz  a  big  noise  at 
de  door,  an'  Miss  Liza  look  out,  an'  dar  wuz  a  coach 
an'  four ;  an'  on  de  inside  wuz  dem  what  had  de  King's 
dinner.  Dey  fotch  it  in,  dey  did,  an'  Miss  Liza  jump 
roun'  an'  show  um  whar  ter  put  it ;  an'  den  dey  bowed 
low,  an'  say,  *  Dinner  fer  de  new  han'  wid  de  com- 
pelerments  er  de  King.' 

"  Dat  dinner  make  Miss  Liza  open  her  eyes.     De 
[173] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

dishes  wuz  bofe  gol'  an'  silver,  an'  de  man  what  fetch 
um  got  in  de  coach  an'  druv  off  widout  sayin'  whedder 
dey  wuz  comin'  back  atter  de  dishes  er  not.  You  bet- 
ter b'lieve  dat  all  dis  open  folks's  eyes,  an'  it  kinder 
sot  Miss  Liza  ter  ruminatin'.  Anyhow,  she  put  de 
dishes  on  de  table,  an'  de  new  ban'  went  in  an'  et  whar 
de  fambly  tuck  der  meals.  An'  den,  atterwuds,  she 
wash  de  dishes,  an'  look  at  um  good.  Dey  had  de 
King's  name  cut  in  um — Bobby  de  Raw." 

Buster  John  was  obliged  to  laugh  at  this,  the  name 
sounded  so  funny,  and  Drusilla  brought  it  out  so  un- 
expectedly. "  You  neenter  laugh,"  exclaimed  Dru- 
silla ;  "  dis  aint  no  funny  tale,  an'  dat  wuz  de  King's 
name — dey  aint  no  two  ways  about  dat." 

"  That  certainly  was  his  name,"  said  the  profes- 
sional story-teller,  stirring  in  his  cage.  "  It  is  a  cor- 
ruption of  Robert  le  Roi.  Folklorists  contend " 

He  got  no  farther,  for  Wally  Wanderoon  brought 
his  cane  down  on  the  cage  or  box  with  a  tremendous 
thwack.  It  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  the 
children  jumped.  "  Nex'  time  you  skeer  me  outer 
my  skin,"  said  Drusilla,  "  I  hope  you'll  take  de 
trouble  fer  ter  put  me  back  ag'in." 
[174] 


MISS    LIZA    AN'    DE   KING 

"I  can't  help  it,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  Why  does  he  want  to  spoil  a  story  by  telling  us 
what  the  folklorists  think  of  it?  Who  cares  what  the 
name  came  from,  so  long  as  the  story  is  rolling  along 
on  wheels,  as  you  may  say?  Oh,  I'm  getting  mighty 
tired  of  that  fellow,  and  some  day  I'll  start  that  box 
downhill,  and  I  hope  some  of  us  will  be  at  the  bottom 
to  see  what  happens  when  it  stops." 

"  Why,  I  thought,"  said  the  professional  story- 
teller, "  that  the  more  information  and  instruction 
you  can  put  in  a  story " 

"  Oh,  will  you  be  quiet?  "  exclaimed  Wally  Wan- 
deroon.  "  We  don't  want  any  information  in  our 
stories.  We  want  the  plain  and  simple  facts.  Go 
ahead,"  he  said,  nodding  to  Drusilla. 

"  Put  up  yo'  stick,  den,"  she  insisted,  and  when  this 
condition  was  complied  with,  she  took  up  the  thread  of 
her  story.  "Well,  de  King's  name  wuz  Bobby  de 
Raw.  I  know  dat  much,  kaze  I  hear  my  granny  call 
'im  dat  eve'y  time  she  tell  de  tale.  An'  his  name  wuz 
cut  on  de  dishes.  When  Miss  Liza  see  dis,  she  put  on 
her  thinkin'  cap,  she  did,  an'  ax  herse'f  how  come  de 
King  make  hisse'f  so  mighty  gree'ble  ter  dish  yer  man 
[175] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

what  aint  got  sense  nuff  fer  ter  make  a  pa'r  er  shoes. 
Bimeby,  she  ax  'er  daddy,  but  de  oP  shoemaker  wuz 
doin'  mo*  thinkin'  dan  talkin',  an'  he  want  sayin' 
nothin'. 

"  Den  Miss  Liza,  hard  pushed,  went  an'  ax  de  new 
man  how  come  de  King  fer  ter  be  so  good  ez  ter  sen' 
his  dinner,  an'  de  man  'low  dat  him  an'  de  King  is  ol' 
cronies.  He  say  dat  him  an'  de  King  done  make  a 
bargain  fer  ter  stan'  by  one  an'er  thoo  thick  an'  thin, 
an'  dat  fer  long  years  bof e  un  um  had  slep'  in  de  same 
bed.  De  man  'low  dat  dey  been  doin'  dataway  so  long 
dat  it  got  ter  be  a  kinder  habit.  He  say  he  dunner 
what  he'd  do  ef  he  didn't  sleep  in  de  same  bed  wid  de 
King. 

"  Miss  Liza  vow  dat  dey  wuz  a  mighty  mixtry 
some'rs,  but  she  dunner  wharbouts.  De  man  say  dey 
aint  but  one  way  fer  her  ter  fin'  out  all  about  it,  an' 
dat  is  ter  marry  him.  Miss  Liza  vow  an'  declar'  dat 
she  won't  marry  nobody,  much  less  a  man  dat  dunner 
how  ter  make  a  shoe.  But  de  man  he  court  her,  an' 
court  her,  an'  court  her,  an'  bimeby  she  say  she'll 
marry  him  ef  only  fer  ter  fin'  out  what  dey  is  twix 
him  an'  King  Bobby  de  Raw.  De  man  he  say  dat  ef 
[176] 


MISS  LIZA  AN'  DE  KING 
she'll  marry  him  she'll  see  ez  much  er  de  King  ez  she 
will  er  him.  An'  so  she  sot  de  day,  an'  when  de  time 
come,  de  King  sont  his  big  gol'  an'  silver  coach  atter 
de  two,  an'  dey  got  in  an'  driv  ter  de  house  whar  de 
King  live  at.  De  new  man,  he  sot  by  Miss  Liza's  side, 
an'  sorter  snuggle  up  ter  her,  but  he  aint  say  nothin'. 
When  dey  come  ter  de  place,  dey  wuz  a  great  big 
crowd  in  de  streets  an'  all  roun'  de  house.  My  granny 
use  ter  say  dat  dey  wuz  so  many  people  dar,  dat  dey 
wan't  hardly  standin'  room  fer  a  flea. 

"  Well,  big  ez  de  crowd  wuz  dey  all  make  way  when 
de  coach  driv  up,  an'  de  folks  'gun  ter  holler  an' 
squall,  an'  call  de  name  er  de  King,  an'  den  dey  'gun 
ter  sing  a  song  'bout  Miss  Liza.  De  folks  stood  back, 
dey  did,  an'  de  new  man  an  Miss  Liza  went  in  de  house 
whar  de  preacher  wuz  standin',  an'  dey  wuz  married. 
An'  den  de  King  led  Miss  Liza  ter  a  great  big  gol' 
th'one  wid  silk  an'  satin  all  over  it,  an  den  she  fin*  out 
dat  she  done  married  King  Bobby  de  Raw." 

"Why,  I  didn't  think  that  Kings  married  that 
way,"  said  Buster  John.    "  Those  I  read  about  always 
marry  some  princess  or  other." 
[177] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

"  I  des  tol'  you  de  tale  like  my  granny  use  ter  tell 
it.  I  dunner  what  de  yuther  Kings  done,  an'  I  don't 
keer.  'Cordin'  ter  de  tale  dish  yer  King  Bobby  Raw 
took  an'  married  de  shoemaker's  daughter,  an'  atter 
she  got  use  ter  de  house  an'  know'd  whar  ter  hunt  f  er 
cobwebs,  she  done  her  queenin'  des  ez  good  ez  any  er 
de  rest  un  urn.  Dat  what  my  granny  say." 

"  That,"  said  the  professional  story-teller,  "  is  the 
best  story  yet.  It  has  a  moral,  but  that  moral  is  not 
obtruded " 

"  Man !  I  shall  be  obliged  to  kill  you  before  the 
day  is  over.  If  you  want  to  tell  any  more  stories  for 
me  and  for  these  children,  you  would  do  well  not  to 
use  any  big  words.  Why,  I  could  take  the  last  one 
you  tried  to  use  and  cut  it  up  for  kindling,  and  it 
would  last  an  average  family  a  week."  So  said  Wally 
Wanderoon,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  meant  what  he 
said,  for  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow 
without  smoothing  out  the  terrible  frown  that  had 
gathered  there  when  the  professional  story-teller  tried 
to  use  his  big  word. 

Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  were  inclined  to 
complain  because  Drusilla  had  never  told  them  this 
[178] 


MISS    LIZA    AN'    DE    KING 

story  when  they  used  to  be  together  every  day  and  a 
large  part  of  the  night,  but  Brasilia  excused  herself 
by  saying  that  they  had  so  many  things  to  do,  espe- 
cially after  they  had  visited  Little  Mr.  Thimblefinger, 
in  the  country  next  door  to  the  world,  that  she  had 
never  thought  of  it;  and  even  if  she  had  thought  of 
it,  there  were  so  many  better  stories  to  be  heard  that 
she  never  would  have  told  it. 

"  If  you  are  all  through  with  your  stories  for  the 
time  being,"  said  the  professional  story-teller,  "  per- 
haps you  will  allow  me  to  tell  one  that  I  have  in  my 
mind.  I  have  an  idea  that  it  was  told  generations 
ago,  in  the  far  distant  ages,  when  the  old  men  gath- 
ered with  the  young  ones  around  the  camp-fire." 

"  I  see  perfectly  well  what  you  are  up  to,"  said 
Wally  Wanderoon,  with  a  frown  on  his  face.  "  You 
want  to  ring  in  something  about  folklore.  Well,  if 
you  do,  I'll  give  your  cage  a  start  downhill,  and 
when  it  stops,  you  can  return  and  let  me  know.  Now 
go  ahead." 

"  We  have  been  taught  in  different  schools,"  re- 
plied the  professional  story-teller.  "  It  was  one  of 
the  principles  taught  at  the  university  where  I  gradu- 
[179] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

ated  that  a  story  amounts  to  nothing  and  worse  than 
nothing,  if  it  is  not  of  scientific  value.  I  would  like 
to  tell  the  story  first,  and  then  give  you  my  idea  of 
its  relation  to  oral  literature,  and  its  special  relation 
to  the  unity  of  the  human  race." 

"  Well,  you  won't !  "  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon ; 
"  and  what's  more,  you  shan't.  These  children  came 
here  on  my  invitation,  and  I'll  not  let  them  be  both- 
ered with  your  pesky  problems.  I'd  as  lief  give  them 
a  dose  of  lobelia." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  unkind,"  said  the  story- 
teller. "  A  popular  tale,  told  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
is  simply  one  of  the  husks  of  history." 

"  Then  give  us  the  shucks  and  keep  the  corn,  and 
the  cob,  too,  for  that  matter — and  much  good  may 
they  do  you,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon. 

"  Well,"  said  the  professional  story-teller,  with  a 
sigh  that  made  Sweetest  Susan  very  sorry  for  him, 
"  I  tell  the  tale  with  what  heart  I  can  muster. 


[180] 


VIII 
THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

(0  C  f~"\  NCE  upon  a  time,  in  a  country  far  away, 

^       M  but  not  so  far  that  the  people  were  out  of 

the  world,  there  was  a  great  forest  of 

which  the  nobles  who  owned  it,  and  the  peasants  who 

lived  near  by,  were  very  proud.     It  was  a  wonderful 

forest,  stretching  across  the  country  for  miles  and 

miles.     It  afforded  a  fine  hunting  ground  for  the 

nobles,  and  gave  to  the  peasants  a  plentiful  supply  of 

faggots  at  all  times  of  the  year. 

"  But  during  one  season,  some  of  the  finest  trees  in 
this  forest  began  to  wither  and  die.  The  tender 
branches  turned  brown,  so  much  so  that  a  passer-by 
would  have  said  that  a  scorching  flame  had  passed 
over  the  forest.  Such  havoc  was  created  that  the  lords 
and  nobles  who  owned  the  forest  felt  compelled  to 
take  measures  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  damage.  It 
was  generally  agreed  that  the  peasants  living  near 
were  the  cause  of  the  trouble;  it  was  supposed  that 
[181] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

they  had  killed  the  trees  for  the  purpose  of  adding 
to  their  supply  of  fuel. 

"  So  the  proprietors  of  the  forest,  the  lords  and 
nobles,  went  to  inquire  into  the  matter,  carrying  with 
them  their  magistrates,  their  lawyers,  and  their  for- 
esters. The  peasants  were  called  together,  and  they 
assembled  with  fear  and  trembling,  not  knowing  what 
was  to  be  the  outcome  of  it  all.  The  magistrates  went 
ahead  with  their  examinations  in  the  high  and  mighty 
way  that  is  common  to  those  who  have  charge  of 
courts,  and  by  their  questionings  succeeded  in  fright- 
ening some  of  the  peasants  nearly  to  death ;  but  as 
the  poor  creatures  knew  no  more  of  the  matter  than 
did  the  magistrates  themselves,  they  could  give  no  in- 
formation on  the  subject.  So  far  as  their  supplies  of 
fuel  were  concerned,  they  one  and  all  declared  that  the 
natural  decay  of  the  trees  and  shrubbery  in  a  forest 
so  vast  gave  them  more  faggots  than  they  could  pos- 
sibly use. 

"  Now,  amongst  the  nobles  was  a  Prince  of  the 

Blood,  and  he  had  come  with  the  rest  with  the  hope  of 

hearing  some  news  of  his  daughter,  whom  he  had  lost 

in  this  forest  in  a  very  mysterious  manner,    Together 

[182] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

with  a  large  company,  he  had  driven  along  the  forest 
road  on  his  way  to  visit  a  neighbouring  Prince.  He 
had  brought  his  wife  with  him,  and  his  daughter,  the 
Princess  Geraldine,  and  they,  as  well  as  the  whole 
company,  were  in  the  highest  possible  spirits.  At  one 
point  on  the  forest  road,  the  Princess  Geraldine,  a 
beautiful  child  of  fifteen,  saw  a  blue  flower  growing 
by  the  roadside,  and  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
jump  from  the  coach  and  pluck  it.  In  the  midst  of 
much  good  humour,  there  could  be  no  refusal.  So  the 
Princess  Geraldine  ran  back  a  little  way  to  where  she 
had  seen  the  blue  flower,  and  then,  although  watchful 
eyes  were  on  her,  she  suddenly  disappeared,  and  was 
seen  no  more. 

"  As  may  be  supposed,  a  great  hue  and  cry  was 
raised,  and  grief  took  the  place  of  joy  in  that  large 
company,  for  the  Princess  Geraldine  was  loved  by  all 
who  knew  her.  The  forest  was  searched  far  and 
near,  but  not  a  trace  of  the  Princess  could  be  found. 
The  search  continued  until  all  hope  was  given 
up,  and  thfcw  the  company  sadly  returned  to  the 
capital. 

"  Like  other  things,  the  disappearance  of  the  yoang 
[183] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

Princess  was  soon  forgotten,  or  it  was  referred  to  as 
one  of  the  mysteries  which  cannot  be  fathomed ;  but 
the  father  of  Geraldine  did  not  forget,  and  he  had 
accompanied  the  nobles  and  the  magistrates  in  the 
hope  of  hearing  something  of  his  daughter.  He  was 
unwilling  to  believe  that  he  should  never  see  her 
again.  Moreover,  sorrow  had  softened  his  heart,  and 
but  for  his  influence  the  innocent  peasants  would 
have  been  put  to  the  torture,  in  the  hope  of  compel- 
ling them  to  confess  that  they  or  some  of  their  neigh- 
bours were  guilty  of  blighting  the  trees. 

"  Among  those  present  at  the  court  was  the  son  of  a 
peasant,  a  tall,  handsome  lad,  whose  whole  appear- 
ance was  different  from  that  of  the  forest-dwellers. 
He  was  fair,  with  curling  hair  and  dark  blue  eyes,  and 
he  held  himself  as  proudly  as  any  of  the  nobles, 
though  he  was  neither  proud  nor  vain.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  very  modest  and  humble,  but  in  appear- 
ance he  was  in  every  way  superior  to  those  among 
whom  he  dwelt. 

"  The  name  of  this  lad  was  Larro,  a  word  which,  in 
the  language  of  that  country,  meant  the  Lucky  One. 
When  you  come  to  study  words  closely,  you  will  find 
[184] 


The  Court. 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

that  they  contain,  in  one  way  and  another,  a  good 
deal  of  history.  If  I  had  my  choice 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon 
indignantly ;  "  do  you  want  me  to  murder  you  ? 
Why,  just  that  kind  of  talk  has  done  more  harm  in 
this  world  than  you  can  imagine.  But  wait  until  I 
make  a  fire  and  heat  a  kettle  of  water — then  I'll  be 
ready  to  take  the  hair  and  hide  off  of  you  when  you 
try  to  come  it  over  these  innocent  children  with  your 
scientific  palaver." 

When  the  professional  story-teller  began  again,  it 
was  in  a  more  subdued  tone — 

"  Well,  the  lad  I  have  been  trying  to  tell  you  about 
was  named  Larro,  and  although  he  was  the  eldest  son 
of  a  peasant  family,  he  was  much  handsomer,  and  very 
much  more  intelligent,  than  his  father  and  mother,  or 
his  brothers  and  sisters.  This  was  because  he  was  the 
godson  of  a  good  fairy  named  Larroline.  This  good 
fairy  chanced  to  be  visiting  some  of  her  friends  in 
that  neighbourhood  when  the  child  was  born,  and 
she  made  her  appearance  in  the  room  where  the  cradle 
stood,  and  waved  her  shining  wand  thrice,  saying, 
*  His  name  shall  be  Larro ;  he  shall  grow  up  virtuous 
[187] 


WALLY    WA'NDEROON 

and  wise,  handsome  and  strong,  and  his  fortune  shall 
be  made  ere  he  come  of  age.'  With  that,  the  good 
fairy  saluted  the  small  company  there  assembled,  and 
disappeared. 

"  The  babe  grew  according  to  the  promises  made  in 
its  behalf,  developing  into  a  handsome  young  man, 
who,  with  the  rest  of  the  peasants,  was  in  attendance 
on  the  forest  court  set  up  by  the  nobles  and  the  King's 
magistrates.  Larro's  appearance  was  so  different 
from  that  of  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood,  that 
he  attracted  the  attention  of  the  judges  and  the  nota- 
bilities. The  Prince  was  especially  struck  by  the 
modest  and  manly  bearing  of  the  lad,  and  while  the 
magistrates  were  in  a  great  fume  on  account  of  the 
stupidity  of  some  of  the  peasants  who  had  been  ques- 
tioned, he  suggested  that  the  lad  be  called. 

"  Whereupon,  Larro  was  summoned  before  the  court. 
He  told  his  name  and  his  age,  and  then  before  the 
magistrates  could  ask  him  further  questions,  he 
raised  his  head,  and  said  with  a  bright  smile,  '  Your 
Honours,  you  have  called  every  witness  but  the  right 
one.'  He  pointed  to  a  pine,  which  was  as  tall  as  the 
tallest  tree  in  the  forest,  and  stood  in  plain  view.  Its 
[188] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

topmost  limbs  were  burned  as  if  some  flying  demon 
had  sailed  over  it,  breathing  out  fire.  '  I  am  a  for- 
ester, Your  Honours,  but  never  have  I  been  able  to 
climb  to  the  lowest  limb  of  yonder  tree.  Whatever 
blighted  the  rest  of  the  trees  has  blighted  the  top  of 
the  pine.' 

"  '  The  lad  is  right,'  said  the  Prince ;  *  his  common 
sense  has  settled  the  whole  question.'  The  magis- 
trates were  not  as  well  pleased  with  Larro  as  the 
Prince  appeared  to  be.  They  rather  resented  the  idea 
that  a  peasant  lad  should  be  able  to  see  things  in  a 
clearer  light  than  they  had  seen  them.  They  ad- 
journed the  court,  but  not  before  one  of  the  surliest 
of  the  judges  rebuked  Larro  for  not  giving  his  in- 
formation sooner.  '  I  am  afraid  to  think,  Your 
Honour,  what  would  have  happened  to  me  had  I  been 
impertinent  enough  to  break  in  upon  your  solemn 
proceedings.' 

"  '  You  are  a  wise  lad,"  said  the  Prince,  laugh- 
ing, *  and  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you  before  we 
go.' 

"  Don't  you  think,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon, 
looking  at  the  children,  and  winking  solemnly,  "  that 
[189] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

you  are  putting  some  very  high-sounding  words  in 
the  mouth  of  a  peasant  lad?  " 

"  Nonsense ! "  exclaimed  the  professional  story- 
teller, with  some  heat ;  "  he  was  the  godson  of  a  fairy, 
as  I  have  already  told  you.  Do  you  expect  a  lad  like 
that  to  he  as  ignorant  as  the  rest  of  the  peasants  ?  If 
so,  what  is  the  use  of  having  a  fairy  godmother  ?  " 

"  Good ! "  cried  Wally  Wanderoon,  clapping  his 
hands.  "  Capital !  You  are  growing  in  my  affec- 
tions, and  you'll  soon  work  your  way  out  of  that  cage. 
You  were  put  in  there,  you  remember,  because  you 
wanted  to  place  the  fairies  on  a  scientific  basis.  But 
I'll  not  expose  you;  go  right  ahead  with  the  story." 

"  It  will  never  be  told  if  you  go  on  interrupting  me 
like  that,"  said  the  man  in  the  cage.  He  paused  a 
moment,  to  make  sure  that  he  was  not  to  be  inter- 
rupted again,  and  then  took  up  the  thread  of  the 
story. 

"As  you  may  have  gathered  from  what  I  have  said, 
the  Prince  was  very  much  taken  with  Larro.  He  in- 
vited the  lad  to  dine  with  him — all  the  notabilities  had 
brought  their  lunch-baskets  along.  During  the  meal, 
which  lasted  a  long  time,  and  which  was  the  finest  the 
[190] 


THE  MOUSE  PRINCESS 
lad  had  ever  tasted,  the  Prince  had  an  opportunity  to 
tell  Larro  of  the  loss  of  his  dear  daughter.  The  lad, 
however,  knew  all  the  particulars.  He  informed  the 
Prince  that  not  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  search 
for  the  missing  Princess,  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  he  had  strong  hopes  of  finding  her. 

"  <  If  you  find  her,  my  lad,'  cried  the  Prince, « I  will 
make  your  fortune.  I  promise  beforehand  to  grant 
any  request  that  you  may  be  pleased  to  make.'  Then 
he  gave  Larro  directions  as  to  where  he  could  be 
found,  and  was  for  giving  him  then  and  there  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  aid  him  in  the  search.  But  the  lad 
shook  his  head,  saying  it  would  be  time  enough  to 
talk  about  money  when  it  was  needed.  The  only  gift 
he  would  accept  was  a  dozen  loaves  of  white  bread. 
He  had  never  seen  such  a  thing  before,  and  he  wanted 
it  for  his  father  and  mother,  who  had  never  tasted  it^ 
and  who  were  not  willing  to  believe  that  there  was  such 
a  thing. 

"  Larro's  statement  caused  the  Prince  to  grow 
thoughtful.  He  knew  that  the  peasants  ate  black 
bread,  but  he  had  supposed  that  they  preferred  it. 
Acting  upon  an  impulse,  the  Prince  caused  all  the 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

white  bread  that  was  left  over  to  be  distributed  among 
the  peasants  who  were  present,  and  they  seemed  to  be 
very  happy  over  the  gift. 

"  The  notabilities  and  the  magistrates  lost  no  time 
in  returning  to  court,  and  the  forest  soon  regained  its 
accustomed  serenity.  Larro  redoubled  his  efforts  to 
find  the  Princess  Geraldine,  but  he  knew,  as  he  had 
known  all  along,  that  he  would  never  succeed  without 
the  aid  of  Larroline,  his  fairy  godmother.  How  to 
find  his  godmother  he  knew  not.  For  many  months  he 
had  waited  on  the  chance  that  she  might  make  her  ap- 
pearance at  any  time,  but  at  last  he  found  that  this 
was  not  the  way  of  fairies.  So  he  went  into  the  for- 
est, and,  taking  his  seat  by  a  huge  hollow  tree,  began 
to  call  the  name  of  his  godmother. 

"  *  Not  quite  so  loud ! '  said  a  voice  quite  close  to  his 
ear.  The  voice  was  soft  and  sweet  as  the  tinkle  of  a 
silver  bell.  He  turned,  and  saw  standing  at  his  side 
the  daintiest  and  most  beautiful  creature  his  eyes  had 
ever  beheld.  She  smiled  and  threw  him  a  kiss  from  the 
pink  tips  of  her  little  fingers.  *  I  don't  know  who 
you  are,'  said  Larro,  '  but  I  thank  you  for  coming, 
for  I  can  send  by  you  a  message  to  my  dear  god- 
[192] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 
mother.     Her  name  is  Larroline,  and  I  am  sure  you 
can  find  her.' 

" '  Did  you  ever  call  on  her  by  name  before  to- 
day?' Larro  shook  his  head.  '  Well,  that  is  the 
reason  you  have  failed  to  find  her.  When  you  called 
she  came,  and  here  she  is.  I  am  your  godmother,  at 
your  service.'  She  waved  her  little  white  hand,  and 
gave  him  a  charming  smile.  '  You  shall  know,'  she 
continued,  '  that  the  laws  of  the  fairies  do  not  permit 
them  to  interfere  with  the  affairs  of  mortals  at  their 
will  and  pleasure.  It  is  only  on  special  occasions,  as 
on  a  flower  festival,  or  what  you  would  call  a  holiday, 
that  we  can  address  ourselves  to  mortals  unless  we  are 
summoned  by  those  in  whom  we  have  a  peculiar  in- 
terest. You  were  born  on  one  of  our  flower  festivals, 
and  that  is  how  I  came  to  be  your  godmother.' 

"  *  I  am  sure  I  thank  you  heartily  for  being  so 
kind,'  said  Larro. 

"  '  Oh,  it  was  a  mere  whim  of  mine,'  continued  Lar- 
roline, '  but  I  am  glad  the  whim  seized  me  there  and 
then,  for  you  have  grown  to  be  very  much  to  my  taste. 
We  fairies  are  very  much  like  mortals  in  some  re- 
spects ;  we  are  always  itching  to  mix  in  human  affairs. 
[193] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

Mortals  are  so  clumsy  and  awkward,  and  do  so  many 
foolish  and  cruel  things,  that  we  feel  like  helping 
them  to  be  graceful  and  kind-hearted.  So  you  see  our 
laws  are  wise  ones.  If  they  were  different,  we  would 
be  tangled  in  most  of  the  happenings  that  occur  on 
this  old  earth.  Not  all  of  us  desire  to  help  mortals, 
however,  for  there  are  some  very  evil-minded  ones 
among  us.  They  are  among  us,  but  not  of  us.  Such 
as  these  are  never  so  happy  as  when  they  are  sowing- 
grief  and  sorrow  among  the  poor  creatures  who  in- 
habit the  earth.' 

"  Larroline  sat  swinging  on  the  leaf  of  a  large  fern 
that  grew  close  at  hand,  and  Larro  thought  she  was 
the  most  bewitching  creature  his  eyes  had  ever  beheld. 
He  told  her  of  his  desire  to  rescue  the  young  Princess 
Geraldine  if  she  were  still  alive,  and  in  the  course  of  a 
very  few  moments  he  learned  that  the  Princess  was 
alive  and  well,  but  very  unhappy.  The  facts  in  her 
case  were  soon  told.  Her  grandfather  had  in  some 
way  made  an  enemy  of  a  powerful  wizard  who  lived 
in  the  middle  of  the  largest  mountain  in  India. 
Among  his  servants  was  the  wicked  fairy  Mibble- 
mobble.  She  it  was  who  changed  the  rain  into  hail, 
[194] 


Larro  and  Larroline. 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

destroying  the  grapes,  and  battering  down  the  rye. 
She  it  was  who  made  the  cow  go  dry,  who  knotted  the 
horses'  manes  and  tails,  and  rode  them  out  in  the 
night,  thereby  unfitting  them  for  work  the  next  day. 
It  was  she  who  addled  the  eggs  of  the  sitting  hens,  and 
caused  the  milk  to  sour;  and  it  was  she  who  placed 
the  blue  flowers  by  the  roadside,  and  it  was  she  who 
caused  the  young  Princess  Geraldine  to  disappear. 

"  Yes,  indeed !  All  this  and  much  more  Larroline 
told  her  godson,  as  she  sat  swinging  on  the  fern  leaf. 
She  told  him  how  Mibblemobble  caused  Geraldine  to 
take  the  shape  of  a  tiny  mouse,  whereupon  she  her- 
self took  the  shape  of  a  black  wolf,  and,  seizing  the 
poor  little  mouse  between  her  teeth,  made  off  through 
the  forest,  going  so  rapidly  that  those  who  were 
searching  for  the  Princess  imagined  that  they  saw  a 
black  wolf  in  different  parts  of  the  wood  at  the  same 
time. 

"  '  I  have  been  very  sorry  for  the  poor  Princess  all 
along,'  said  Larroline,  '  but  I  have  been  unable  to 
help  her.  Mibblemobble  is  not  ruled  by  our  dear 
Queen,  but,  as  I  have  told  you,  is  controlled  by  the 
monster  who  lives  in  the  mountain  in  India.  All  that 
[197] 


WALLY  WANDEROON 
I  can  do  to  aid  you  is  to  give  you  certain  directions 
by  means  of  which,  if  you  are  wise  and  brave,  you 
will  be  able  to  outwit  the  wicked  creature  and  rescue 
the  Princess.  You  must  not  forget  that  the  young 
Princess  is  now  in  the  shape  of  a  mouse,  and  you  must 
be  very  careful  about  following  my  directions.  You 
cannot  mistake  the  mouse  Princess.  One  of  her  ears  is 
white,  and  the  other  pink ;  there  is  no  other  mouse  like 
the  mouse  Princess.' 

"  Larroline  gave  her  godson  all  the  directions  that 
she  thought  necessary,  and  then  bade  him  good-bye, 
promising  to  assist  him  as  well  as  she  could.  Larro 
went  home,  put  on  a  stouter  suit  of  clothes,  tied  a 
handkerchief  around  his  neck,  placed  some  food  in  a 
wallet, — his  mother  insisted  on  giving  him  the  white 
bread, — selected  a  bludgeon  from  the  many  that  he 
had  idly  gathered  in  the  wood,  embraced  his  mother, 
and  set  out  on  his  journey  with  high  hopes  and  a 
light  heart. 

"  He  paused  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  to  wave  his 

hand  to  his  mother,  who  had  come  a  little  way  with 

him,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  gloomy  depths 

of  the  wood.     But  he  was  no  whit  afraid,  nor  did  he 

[198] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

think  of  the  shadows  as  gloomy  ones.  He  had  known 
the  forest  all  his  life,  and  he  felt  that  the  forest  knew 
him,  and  so  he  went  along  right  cheerfully.  He  was 
so  cheerful  indeed  that  he  whistled  as  he  walked  along 
the  dim  path;  and  sometimes,  from  mere  excess  of 
energy,  he  increased  his  pace  from  a  rapid  walk  to  a 
jog-trot.  He  had  worked  hard  all  his  life,  and  he  had 
never  known  what  real  fatigue  was.  He  had  been 
hungry  and  sleepy, — yes,  many  a  time, — but  tired, 
never. 

"  After  a  time,  he  found  himself  out  of  the  forest 
and  on  the  King's  highway,  which  ran  between  the 
wood  and  the  cultivated  lands.  He  knew  that  he 
must  cross  these  lands,  but  he  saw  no  way.  To  walk 
through  the  fields  where  the  crops  were  growing 
would  be  trespass,  and  so  he  journeyed  on,  in  the 
hope  of  coming  to  a  stile,  or  a  by-path,  but  he  saw 
none.  His  godmother  had  told  him  that  there  was  a 
way,  if  he  would  find  it,  and  so  he  kept  on  until  he 
came  to  an  old  man  who  was  contentedly  eating  his 
midday  meal. 

"  The  sight  of  food  gave  Larro  a  pinch  of  hunger, 
so  he  saluted  the  old  man  with  a  good-day,  and  sat 
[199] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

down  beside  him.  The  lad  was  soon  engaged  in  eat- 
ing his  white  bread,  and  as  soon  as  the  old  man  caught 
sight  of  it,  he  rose  and  made  a  low  bow,  saying, 
'  My  lord,  I  bid  you  good-morning ! ' 

"  '  I  am  no  more  a  lord  than  you  are,'  explained 
Larro  with  a  laugh.  '  I  am  simply  the  son  of  a 
peasant,  and  if  you  will  accept  some  of  my  white 
bread,  you  are  more  than  welcome  to  it.' 

"  The  old  man  thankfully  accepted  the  bread,  re- 
marking that  he  was  bowing  to  the  future,  and  not  to 
the  present;  and  he  reminded  Larro  of  the  old  say- 
ing— 

" '  Who  shares  his  dinner  with  the  poor, 
Will  always  find  an  open  door.' 

"  The  old  man  ate  his  bread  with  great  relish,  nod- 
ding his  head,  and  mumbling  thanks  over  what  he  con- 
sidered his  good  fortune.  When  the  two  were  through 
with  their  meal,  and  had  rested  a  while,  Larro  asked 
the  old  man  how  it  was  possible  to  cross  the  cultivated 
lands  without  trespassing. 

"  Whereupon,  his  companion  stared  at  him  with 
astonishment.  'Well,  well,  well!'  and  'Oho!'  said 
[200] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 
he.     '  Why,  this  fetches  my  dream  true ! '  and  with 
that  he  began  to  chuckle  as  though  he  was  very  much 
amused. 

"  *  Faith !  it  seems  to  tickle  you,1  remarked  Larro ; 
*  but  with  me  it  is  no  laughing  matter.' 

"  *  It  is  this  way,  young  master :  I  am  a  great 
dreamer,  but  never  before  did  I  have  a  dream  to  come 
true  right  before  my  eyes;  and  yet  this  is  what  has 
happened.  One  night  a  month  ago,  the  moon  being 
full,  I  dreamed  that  someone  called  me,  saying — 

"'Peter,  Peter!  wise  old  Peter t 

A  road  must  be  made  for  the  white-bread  eater.' 

"  *  Off  my  pallet  I  rolled  and  bestirred  myself.  I 
was  no  road-maker,  but  my  dream  sat  as  heavy  on 
my  stomach  as  a  full  meal.  I  took  to  the  highway, 
and  soon  had  a  summons  from  the  lord  of  these  lands, 
who  wanted  a  ditch  made  across  them.  I  have  dug 
many  ditches  in  my  day  and  time,  but  never  before 
was  I  called  on  to  dig  one  across  level  land ;  but  it  is 
all  plain  now.  The  ditch  was  made  for  you;  it  will 
serve  you  instead  of  a  road.' 

"  Larro  concealed  his  surprise  as  well  as  he  could, 
[201] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

but  he  followed  the  old  man,  and  they  were  soon 
journeying  across  the  cultivated  lands.  Though  the 
ditch  had  been  dug  but  a  short  time,  its  banks  were 
already  shaded  by  a  growth  of  shrubbery  and  fruit 
trees,  and  when  they  had  come  near  to  the  farthest 
end  of  the  ditch,  the  old  man  called  Larro's  atten- 
tion to  a  cherry  tree  growing  close  to  the  edge.  And, 
in  truth,  that  tree  was  a  curiosity.  It  was  not  differ- 
ent from  other  trees  of  its  kind,  save  in  this,  that 
while  other  cherry  trees  had  borne  their  fruit  some 
months  before,  this  cherry  tree  bore  three  luscious- 
looking  cherries.  They  glittered  in  the  sunshine  like 
glass.  One  was  red,  one  was  blue,  and  the  third  was 
yellow;  and  they  were  so  tempting  that  Larro  won- 
dered why  they  had  not  been  plucked. 

"  *  If  I  were  you,'  said  the  old  man  to  Larro,  '  I 
would  take  the  cherries  and  save  them  against  a  rainy 
day.  They  may  serve  you  a  good  turn.  For  ex- 
ample: should  you  need  a  light,  the  yellow  cherry  will 
furnish  you  with  a  very  bright  one;  should  you  by 
chance  come  to  the  cabin  of  a  little  old  woman,  you 
will  be  able  to  swap  your  red  cherry  for  a  walking- 
cane  that  will  help  you  on  your  way ;  and  should  you 
[202] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

find  yourself  at  the  house  of  another  old  woman,  not 
far  from  a  chalk-pit,  I  warrant  that  a  sight  of  the 
blue  cherry  would  make  her  mouth  water.  Better 
take  them  along,  my  young  master.' 

"  Larro  had  small  choice  in  the  matter,  for  the  old 
man  plucked  the  cherries  from  the  tree  and  placed 
them  in  the  lad's  wallet.  And  then,  as  they  had  now 
reached  the  end  of  the  ditch,  Larro  turned  to  thank 
his  companion  and  bid  him  good-bye ;  but  he  was  no- 
where to  be  seen;  he  had  vanished.  After  looking 
about  him  and  calling  in  vain,  Larro  turned  toward 
the  highway  with  a  laugh.  The  old  man  appeared  to 
be  such  a  commonplace,  everyday  sort  of  a  body  that 
the  idea  never  entered  Larro's  head  that  he  had  any 
relation  to  the  magic  work  of  the  fairies ;  and 
although  the  lad  laughed,  he  went  forward  with  a 
stouter  heart,  for  he  now  felt  assured  that  he  was  to 
have  the  assistance  of  the  little  people,  as  the  fairies 
were  called. 

"  So  he  went  along  the  highway  feeling  very  happy. 

He  trudged  along,  whistling  a  cheerful  tune,  and  in 

the  course  of  the  day  placed  many  a  mile  behind  him. 

Toward  evening,  he  came  to  a  point  where  a  foot- 

[203] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

path  intersected  the  highway.  He  knew  that  he  must 
take  this  path  if  he  hoped  to  come  to  his  journey's 
end,  but  he  paused  and  thought  the  matter  over  very 
seriously,  for  the  pathway  led  into  a  very  dense  and 
dark  forest,  in  which — though  the  sun  had  not  set — 
night  had  already  fallen.  It  is  one  thing  to  follow  a 
broad  highway  when  the  sun  is  shining  and  the  birds 
singing,  but  it  was  quite  another  thing  to  plunge  into 
an  unknown  forest  just  as  night  is  coming  on,  utterly 
ignorant  of  what  is  before  you. 

"  But  Larro  was  so  familiar  with  his  own  great 
forest,  which  had  been  his  home  as  well  as  his  school, 
that  his  hesitation  lasted  not  more  than  a  quarter  of 
an  hour.  He  tightened  his  belt  and  went  forward 
along  the  pathway  with  a  confident  air.  As  he  went 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  wood,  it  grew  darker  and 
darker,  and  presently  the  light  was  shut  out  alto- 
gether, so  that  he  had  great  trouble  in  following  the 
crooked  path. 

"  He  had  been  walking  in  the  darkness  only  a  short 

time  when  he  became  aware  that  some  creature  was 

following  him.     First  on  one  side  of  the  path  and 

then  on  the  other,  he  heard  the  patter  of  feet.    Some- 

[204] 


THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

times  the  creature  would  pause  until  Larro  became 
easier  in  his  mind,  and  then  it  would  come  up  behind 
him  with  a  rush,  swerving  from  the  path  just  before 
it  reached  him.  Sometimes  it  would  run  ahead  and 
take  up  a  position  in  the  path,  its  eyes  gleaming  bale- 
fully. 

"  When  he  came  to  a  part  of  the  forest  where  the 
trees  were  not  so  thick,  he  discovered  that  the  creature 
which  had  been  threatening  him  was  nothing  less  than 
a  big  black  wolf;  and  then  he  remembered  with  some 
dismay  what  his  fairy  godmother  had  told  him  of  the 
big  black  wolf  that  had  seized  the  Princess  Geral- 
dine.  Just  when  his  courage  was  about  to  leave  him, 
he  thought  of  the  yellow  cherry  which  was  to  furnish 
him  a  light,  and  he  wondered  that  he  had  not  thought 
of  it  before.  He  fumbled  about  in  his  wallet  until  he 
found  it,  and  he  had  no  sooner  brought  it  out  into  the 
air  than  it  began  to  shed  a  strong  and  steady  light, 
which  enabled  him  to  see  very  clearly.  The  black 
wolf  snarled  and  growled,  and  then  disappeared  to 
trouble  him  no  more.  But  Larro  deemed  it  safer  to 
seek  no  rest  until  he  was  well  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
dark  wood. 

[205] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  How  long  he  had  been  walking  he  could  never 
have  guessed,  but  after  a  while  light  took  the  place  of 
darkness,  his  yellow  cherry  went  out,  as  we  say  of  a 
lamp,  and  he  soon  came  to  where  the  sun  was  shining 
as  brightly  as  it  shone  the  day  before.  With  only  a 
rest  for  dinner,  he  had  been  walking  a  day  and  a 
night,  and  so  when  he  deemed  himself  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance from  the  gloomy  wood,  he  ate  a  light  break- 
fast, and  made  his  bed  in  the  shade  of  a  hawthorn 
tree  and  slept  until  the  middle  of  the  day.  When  he 
awoke  he  tried  to  take  note  of  his  surroundings,  but 
he  was  in  a  strange  part  of  the  country,  and  for 
a  while  he  knew  not  which  way  to  turn.  He  wandered 
about  until  he  came  to  a  dim  trail,  a  mere  shadow  of  a 
path.  He  followed  it  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  then 
he  came  in  sight  of  a  hovel.  He  knocked,  but  re- 
ceived no  answer,  and,  as  the  door  was  open,  he  made 
bold  to  enter.  There  were  no  windows  to  the  hut, 
and  the  interior  was  very  dark;  but  when  Larro's 
eyes  became  used  to  the  darkness,  he  saw  a  little  old 
woman  sitting  in  a  corner.  She  was  very  small,  but 
her  face  was  so  full  of  wrinkles  that  there  was  ho 
room  for  any  more.  She  sat  by  a  tiny  spinning 
[206] 


Larro,  followed  by  the  wolf,  lights  his  way  with  the  yellow 
cherry. 


THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

wheel,  and  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  examining  its 
parts. 

"  '  Good-day,  mother,'  said  Larro. 

"  She  brushed  her  grey  hair  out  of  her  eyes  and 
looked  up  at  the  lad.  '  Ho-ho-ho ! '  she  cackled. 
*  And  so  it  is  a  good  day,  is  it  ?  Who  told  you  so  ?  ' 

"  '  Why,  I  hoped  it  was  a  good  day  for  you,  mother 
— and  for  me,'  Larro  replied. 

"  *  Well  said,  dearie ;  very  well  said ;  but  who  can 
tell?'  With  that  the  little  old  woman  began  to 
laugh,  and,  in  doing  so,  multiplied  the  wrinkles  a 
thousandfold.  'What  fetches  you  here,  dearie?  I 
never  saw  you  before.  Did  you  by  any  chance  pass 
through  the  Wood  of  the  Wolves? ' 

"  *  Why,  as  to  that,  I  know  not,  mother,  being  a 
stranger  to  this  part  of  the  country,'  answered 
Larro ;  '  but  I  came  through  a  great  forest  last 
night,  and  a  big  black  wolf  was  snapping  at  my 
heels  nearly  the  whole  way.' 

"  The  little  old  woman  appeared  to  be  greatly  sur- 
prised. 'Well,  well!'  she  cried,  and  then,  'What 
are  we  coming  to,  I  wonder?  Why,  for  more  than 
fifty  years  no  human  being  has  entered  the  Wood  of 
[209] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

the  Wolves  on  foot  and  come  out  alive — not  one. 
And  here  is  a  slip  of  a  lad  who  walks  right  through.' 
The  little  old  woman  seemed  to  regard  the  event  as  a 
joke,  for  she  chuckled  with  great  glee.  Then,  sud- 
denly, she  became  serious,  puckering  her  face  until 
wrinkles  were  piled  on  wrinkles. 

"  As  Larro  examined  the  inside  of  the  hut,  his  eyes 
fell  on  a  beautiful  walking-cane.  The  top  piece  was 
of  gold,  curiously  carved,  and  the  cane  itself  had 
queer  carvings  that  extended  its  entire  length. 
'  That  is  a  beautiful  cane  you  have,  mother,"  said 
he. 

"  The  little  old  woman  sat  with  her  face  puckered 
and  her  eyes  closed,  as  if  reflecting  over  some  hard 
problem.  '  Oh,  the  cane ! '  she  cried,  after  a  while; 
'  The  cane,  of  course.  Well,  it  i~  a  very  fine  cane, 
but  I  will  sell  it  dirt-cheap.  Yes,  indeed,  I  will  give 
it  to  anyone  who  will  give  me  a  ripe  red  cherry.  The 
season  is  over  and  gone,  but  a  ripe  red  cherry  I  must 
have  before  I  part  with  the  cane.' 

"  Larro  lost  no  time  in  producing  the  red  cherry, 
and  the  little  old  woman,  when  she  saw  it,  ran  and 
brought  the  cane,  and  seemed  glad  to  part  with  it  on 
[210] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

such  terms;  and  this  made  Larro  a  trifle  suspicious. 
What  if  the  real  owner  of  the  cane  should  claim  it? 
This  seemed  to  him  such  an  important  matter  that  he 
frankly  told  the  little  old  woman  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

"  '  Someone  will  claim  the  cane,  dearie — you  may 
be  sure  of  that.  But  what  if  they  do?  You  have  only 
to  use  the  cane  as  a  sword,  and  your  enemies  will  flee 
before  you;  but  if  you  allow  it  to  pass  from  your 
hands,  you  will  be  powerless.  And  I  am  so  sure  you 
will  be  wheedled  out  of  it  that  I  intend  to  follow  you 
and  fetch  a  handkerchief  to  dry  your  eyes  when  you 
cry.' 

"  *  You  may  fetch  the  handkerchief,  mother,  for 
the  other  fellow  will  need  it.'  The  little  old  woman 
made  no  reply  to  this,  but  placed  the  cane  in  Larro's 
hands,  and  took  the  cherry,  which  she  fondled 
greedily. 

"  Larro  thanked  her,  and  continued  his  journey 
with  a  light  heart.  He  threw  his  bludgeon  away,  and 
followed  the  dim  path  flourishing  his  walking-cane. 
In  the  course  of  an  hour,  he  came  to  a  broader  road, 
and  into  this  he  turned,  following  it  until  his  appetite 
[811] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

informed  him  it  was  dinner  time.  He  seated  himself 
by  the  roadside,  as  he  had  done  the  day  before,  and 
began  to  eat  his  dinner,  not  forgetting  that  his  sup- 
ply of  food  was  growing  smaller  and  smaller. 

"  While  he  was  thus  engaged  he  heard  the  sound  of 
heavy  footsteps  approaching,  and  presently  there 
came  into  view  a  man  who  had  the  marks  of  a  ruffian 
written  all  over  him.  He  had  a  heavy  beard,  and 
long  black  hair  which,  from  its  appearance,  had  never 
been  touched  by  a  comb.  He  looked  at  Larro  with 
a  frown,  and  then  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
walking-cane. 

"  '  Oho ! '  he  cried.  '  You  have  my  walking-cane. 
I  am  obliged  to  you  for  finding  it  for  me.  You  have 
saved  me  many  weary  steps,  my  lad,  and  you  deserve 
something  for  your  trouble.  What  shall  it  be?  ' 

"  Larro  hardly  knew  what  to  say,  or  how  to  act. 
The  man,  though  very  ill-looking,  spoke  fairly.  Per- 
haps he  had  been  led  into  a  trap,  and  he  could  imag- 
ine the  little  old  woman  chuckling  with  glee  over  his 
predicament.  Nevertheless,  he  determined  to  make 
the  most  of  an  opportunity  to  test  the  truth  of  what 
she  had  told  him.  *  You  owe  me  nothing,'  said  Larro 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

to  the  stranger,  '  and  so  far  we  are  even.  The  cane  is 
not  yours  and  never  will  be;  more  than  that,  you 
never  saw  it  before.' 

?'  The  man  frowned  fiercely,  puffed  out  his  cheeks, 
and  ground  his  teeth  together  in  a  way  that  would 
have  made  the  flesh  of  a  timid  lad  creep.  '  What ! ' 
he  cried.  '  Do  you  mean  to  steal  my  cane  ?  Will  you 
defy  me  to  my  face?  Why,  I'll  wring  your  neck, 
boy ! '  With  that  the  man  made  a  feint  of  rushing 
at  Larro ;  but  the  lad  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  instead 
of  dropping  the  cane  and  running  away,  as  his 
enemy  expected  him  to  do,  he  thrust  at  the  man,  and 
gave  him  a  hard  jab  with  the  cane.  This  seemed  to 
be  more  than  sufficient,  for  the  ruffian  took  to  his 
heels  and  ran  headlong  into  the  woods,  roaring  as  if 
he  had  received  a  mortal  wound. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  Larro  was  pleased  with  his 
wonderful  cane.  He  thought  of  his  mother  and  how 
pleased  she  would  be  to  know  that  he  had  vanquished 
his  foe ;  and  he  thought  also  of  the  poor  young  Prin- 
cess, whose  rescue  he  had  undertaken.  But  these 
thoughts  did  not  prevent  him  from  finishing  his 
dinner,  This  meal  disposed  of,  he  took  to  the  road 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

again,  taking  no  account  of  the  miles  he  was  travel- 
ling, or  of  the  weary  journey  he  had  before  him. 

"  When  night  came,  he  sought  and  found  a  place  to 
sleep  beneath  a  clump  of  sheltering  trees.  Once  dur- 
ing the  night,  he  awoke  with  the  feeling  that  someone 
was  near,  but  the  darkness  was  such  that  he  could 
not  see  very  far.  He  tried  to  lie  awake  and  listen, 
but  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  his  eyelids  drooped, 
and  he  was  soon  sound  asleep  again.  He  awoke  in 
the  morning  with  all  his  faculties  confused,  and  for 
a  few  moments  he  hardly  knew  where  he  was;  but 
he  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  gradually  collected  his 
thoughts,  and  the  first  thing  he  discovered  was  the 
fact  that  he  was  very  hungry.  There  was  nothing 
strange  about  this,  for  he  had  gone  supperless  to  bed, 
in  order  that  his  supply  of  food  might  last  longer. 

"  But  when  he  lifted  the  wallet  which  held  his  supply 
of  provisions,  he  found  that  it  was  quite  heavy.  Evi- 
dently someone  had  filled  it  while  he  slept.  He  was 
very  glad  of  this ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  thankful- 
ness, he  discovered  that  his  walking-cane  had  disap- 
peared. He  was  so  disturbed  at  this  that  his  hunger 
left  him.  He  searched  everywhere,  but  the  search 
[214] 


Larro,  by  means  of  his  cane,  puts  a  ruffian  to  flight. 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 
proved  a  fruitless  one,  and  he  soon  gave  up  all  hope 
of  recovering  it. 

"  His  appetite  returned,  and  when  he  had  strength- 
ened himself  with  a  hearty  meal,  he  felt  inclined  to 
make  light  of  the  loss  of  his  magic  cane.  He  remem- 
bered that  he  had  started  from  home  without  it,  and 
had  got  along  very  well  up  to  the  moment  when  it 
came  into  his  possession.  A  full  stomach  makes  a 
stout  heart,  and  he  would  have  forgotten  all  about  the 
cane  if  he  had  not  discovered  that  two  travellers  were 
coming  along  the  road  behind  him,  and  that  one  of 
them  was  the  ruffian  who  had  tried  to  frighten  him 
into  surrendering  the  cane. 

"  When  he  saw  this  man,  he  knew  that  mischief 
was  brewing,  and  so  he  quickened  his  pace  into  a  rapid 
walk.  When  a  turn  in  the  road  concealed  him  from 
his  pursuers,  he  began  to  run,  and  in  this  way  gained 
considerably  on  them.  Fortunately,  the  road  was  a 
very  crooked  one.  It  wound  about  among  the  trees, 
turning  first  to  the  north,  and  then  to  the  east  again. 
In  this  way  he  managed  to  place  a  considerable  dis- 
tance between  the  men  and  himself. 

"  But  the  ruffians  knew  the  road  better  than  Larro 
[217] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

did,  and  at  one  point  where  the  road  made  a  short  half- 
circle,  they  cut  across  the  woods,  and  came  into  the 
road  very  close  behind  him.  He  was  not  frightened, 
for  when  he  discovered  the  loss  of  his  cane,  he  had 
cut  a  stout  bludgeon  for  defensive  purposes.  Never- 
theless, he  knew  that  he  would  be  no  match  for  the 
two  ruffians.  He  ran  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  tried 
hard  to  outfoot  them,  but  they  ran  as  fast  as  he  did, 
and  he  finally  decided  to  turn  about  and  face  them. 

"  Just  at  that  moment  the  little  old  woman  came  out 
of  the  wood  a  little  way  ahead  of  Larro,  and  stood 
waiting  for  him.  She  carried  the  cane  that  he 
thought  was  lost,  and  she  seemed  to  be  highly  amused 
as  he  came  up.  The  ruffians  were  not  far  behind  him. 
But  they  halted  when  they  saw  him  halt,  and  stood 
whispering  together.  The  companion  of  the  ruffian 
who  had  tried  to  attack  Larro  the  day  before  seemed 
inclined  to  withdraw.  This  led  to  an  angry  dispute, 
and  in  a  very  few  moments  the  ruffians  came  to  blows. 

"  '  Now  is  your  time,  dearie,'  said  the  little  old 
woman.  '  Take  the  cane  and  teach  them  a  lesson.* 

"  This  was  quite  to  the  taste  of  Larro,  and  he  was 
quick  to  follow  the  little  old  woman's  suggestion,  and 
[218] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

he  employed  his  cane  very  effectively,  taking  care  not 
to  use  it  on  the  ruffian  who  had  grown  faint-hearted. 
But  he  gave  his  enemy  of  the  day  before  the  full 
benefit  of  the  magic  power  of  the  cane,  and  soon  had 
him  prostrate  on  the  ground  begging  for  mercy. 
When  Larro  permitted  him  to  rise  to  his  feet,  he  lost 
no  time  in  taking  to  his  heels,  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight.  His  companion  had  already  disappeared,  and 
Larro  felt  sure  that  they  would  trouble  him  no  more, 

"  The  little  old  woman  greeted  Larro  with  a 
chuckle  when  he  returned.  4  You  have  done  well, 
dearie — very  well,  indeed.  I  have  a  present  for  my 
sister  which  I  forgot  to  give  you  yesterday.'  She 
took  from  her  pocket  a  hank  of  yarn  that  she  had 
spun  on  her  tiny  spinning-wheel.  Larro  had  never 
seen  anything  like  it.  Its  threads  were  as  fine  and  as 
strong  as  those  of  a  spider's  web,  and,  small  as  it  was, 
it  must  have  contained  a  thousand  yards  of  yarn. 
*  If  my  sister  doesn't  like  the  yarn,  and  refuses  to 
accept  it  as  a  present  from  me,  just  throw  it  over  her 
head.' 

"  '  Where  shall  I  find  your  sister?  '  Larro  inquired. 

"  *  Never  mind,  dearie ;  you  will  find  her  soon 
[219] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

enough.'  With  that  the  little  old  woman  turned  into 
the  wood,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  Larro  con- 
tinued his  journey,  and,  by  the  aid  of  his  cane,  was 
soon  out  of  the  hill  country.  In  no  long  time,  he 
found  himself  travelling  over  a  wide  plain  that  was 
dotted  with  clumps  of  shrubbery,  and  with  the  huts 
of  labourers — workers  in  the  chalk  pits.  The  soil  was 
no  longer  black  and  grey ;  it  was  as  white  as  flour  from 
the  mills;  and  the  shrubbery  and  the  thatched  roofs 
of  the  huts  were  covered  with  fine  white  dust. 

"  Pretty  soon  the  road  dwindled  away  till  it  became 
a  footpath,  and  then,  like  a  white  snake,  it  wound 
around  deep  pits  and  between  the  huts,  and  then  dis- 
appeared altogether.  Larro  saw  a  woman  sitting  in 
the  door  of  one  of  the  huts.  He  saluted  fier  politely, 
and  then — *  Where  am  I  ?  '  he  asked. 

"  *  Why,  you  are  here  at  my  door.  Where  else 
should  you  be?  '  replied  the  woman,  regarding  him 
with  astonishment.  Evidently  she  took  Larro  for  a 
simpleton. 

"  *  What  part  of  the  country  am  I  in?  '  he  asked. 

"  *  Why,  in  this  part,  to  be  sure,'  the  woman  an- 
swered. 

[220] 


THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

"  *  Has  the  settlement  no  name?  '   inquired  Larro. 

"  c  What  good  would  a  name  do?  '  said  the  woman. 
*  All  I  know  is  that  it  is  hard  work  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together  in  this  wild  barren.  But  there  is  one 
here  that  should  know.  Do  you  see  that  hut  standing 
by  itself?  Well,  that  is  the  home  of  the  Mouse 
Mother.  She  spends  her  time  nursing  a  parcel  of 
mice,  but  how  can  she  earn  a  living  at  that  business 
is  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  But  if  you  call  on  her, 
be  careful.  I  have  sent  more  than  one  visitor  to  her 
door,  and  no  one  has  ever  laid  eyes  on  them  again. 
I  hope  you'll  have  better  luck,  but  I  doubt  it.' 

"  Larro  lost  no  time  in  making  his  way  to  the  hut, 
that  stood  solitary  and  alone  on  the  verge  of  the  oldest 
and  deepest  chalk-pit  in  the  settlement.  The  -door 
was  open,  but  he  knocked  to  attract  the  woman's  at- 
tention. She  promptly  answered  the  knock,  and 
Larro,  who  expected  to  see  an  ill-favoured  hag,  was 
astonished  to  find  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  hand- 
some young  woman,  with  brilliant  eyes,  long  black 
hair,  and  rosy  cheeks. 

"  He  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was  the  daugh- 
ter, and,  after  saluting  her  by  taking  off  his  hat,  he 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

asked  if  he  might  see  her  mother.  She  laughed, 
showing  beautiful  white  teeth,  and  declared  that  she 
couldn't  remember  the  day  when  she  had  a  mother. 

*  Won't  you  come  in  and  rest  yourself?  '  she  said.     '  I 
am  raising  mice  for  sale;  perhaps  you  would  like  to 
buy  one.     I  have  been  trying  to  sell  some  of  them 
for  a  long  time,  but  have  never  yet  succeeded.' 

"'I  wonder  why?'  Larro  declared.  'There  is 
nothing  I  would  like  better  than  to  buy  a  mouse.  I 
have  been  trying  all  my  life  to  find  a  mouse  with  one 
pink  ear  and  one  white  one.  I  have  heard  that  there 
are  such  mice,  but  I  have  never  seen  one,  and  lately 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  those  who  told  me 
were  drawing  the  long  bow.' 

"  '  Oh !   you  are  mistaken ! '  exclaimed  the  woman. 

*  I  have  one  of  them,  and  it  is  a  great  curiosity.     I 
have  been  offered  large  sums  of  money  for  this  mouse, 
but  I  have  little  need  of  money.     Still,  I  will  sell  the 
mouse,  or  swap  it  for  something  I  have  never  seen.' 

"  Larro  went  into  the  hut,  and  stared  with  aston- 
ishment. On  each  and  every  wall  there  were  rows  of 
tiny  cages  in  which  there  were  mice.  Some  were 
asleep,  and  some  were  trying  to  gnaw  their  way  out. 


THE  MOUSE  PRINCESS 
On  a  small  table  in  one  corner  of  the  hut  there  was 
a  large  cage,  and  in  this  was  the  mouse  that  Larro 
had  travelled  so  far  to  find.  He  watched  the  woman 
narrowly,  but  she  seemed  to  be  the  soul  of  innocence. 
To  all  appearance,  she  had  nothing  to  conceal,  and 
her  countenance  was  as  open  as  the  day. 

"  The  mouse  with  the  pink  and  white  ears  seemed 
to  be  asleep  when  Larro  entered  the  hut,  but  when  it 
heard  his  voice,  it  ran  around  the  cage  squeaking  in 
a  pitiful  way,  and  making  vain  efforts  to  get  out  of 
its  prison.  He  paid  no  attention  to  these  movements, 
fearing  that  the  woman  would  suspect  his  intentions. 
'  It  is  a  beauty,'  said  Larro,  *  and  I  should  like  very 
much  to  buy  it  from  you.' 

" '  I  am  afraid  that  is  impossible,'  the  woman  re 
plied.  *  I  have  been  told  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  blue  cherry,  and  I  have  said  time  and  time  again 
that  whoever  presents  me  with  a  blue  cherry  shall  have 
the  choice  of  my  mice.  But,  as  you  felt  about  the 
pink-and-white-eared  mice,  so  I  feel  about  the  blue 
cherries.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  there  are  no 
such  cherries.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  Larro,  '  as  you  have  astonished  me, 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  astonish  you.'  As  he 
spoke,  he  produced  the  blue  cherry,  and  thrust  it  in 
the  woman's  hand. 

"  *  A  blue  cherry ! '  she  cried.  *  Impossible !  you  are 
trying  to  deceive  me.  It  is  painted ;  it  is  not  a  cherry 
at  all ! '  She  was  so  astonished  that  she  sank  into  the 
only  chair  in  the  room,  and  seemed  quite  overcome. 
Larro,  knowing  that  she  would  never  exchange  the 
mouse  for  the  cherry,  took  from  his  pocket  the  hank 
of  yarn,  and  threw  it  over  her  head,  saying  as  he  did 
so,  *  Here  is  a  present  from  your  sister.  Make  the 
most  of  it.' 

"  The  woman  fell  from  the  chair  to  the  floor  in  her 
efforts  to  release  herself  from  the  hank  of  yarn,  which, 
in  a  curious  fashion,  had  enveloped  her  whole  body, 
and  seemed  to  draw  tighter  and  tighter  the  more  she 
struggled.  Larro  knew  that  this  was  his  opportunity, 
and  so  he  seized  the  cage  in  which  the  pink-and-white- 
eared  mouse  was  imprisoned,  and  started  to  leave  the 
hut;  but  he  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  man  who  was 
almost  a  giant  in  stature,  who  cried  out  what  he  meant 
by  attacking  and  robbing  an  honest  woman. 

"  But  Larro  remembered  his  cane,  and  he  used  it 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

on  the  man  to  such  purpose  that  his  antagonist  van- 
ished into  thin  air.  The  lad  then  concluded  that  the 
cage  would  be  too  unwieldy  a  burden  to  carry,  and  so 
he  released  the  mouse,  and  allowed  it  to  crawl  up  his 
sleeve.  This  the  little  creature  was  quick  to  do,  and  it 
remained  so  quiet  and  contented  that  Larro  was  in 
danger  of  forgetting  about  it. 

"  He  went  back  the  way  he  had  come,  and  by  the 
aid  of  his  walking-cane  he  reached  home  much  sooner 
than  he  had  expected  to ;  and  you  may  be  sure  that  ho 
was  welcomed  by  his  mother  and  father,  and  also  by 
the  neighbours,  who  never  knew,  until  he  had  gone 
on  his  long  journey,  how  much  they  had  been  cheered 
by  his  good  humour  and  his  happy  disposition.  All 
the  peasants  were  glad  of  his  return,  and  they  showed 
it  in  various  ways. 

"  Larro  was  very  glad  of  all  this,  but  he  still  had 
before  him  a  mystery  as  great  as  that  which  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  disappearance  of  the  Princess  Geral- 
dine.  He  had  rescued  Geraldine  from  the  hands  of  her 
captors,  but  she  still  retained  the  shape  of  a  mouse — 
a  very  pretty  mouse,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  mouse. 
The  great  question  was  how  was  she  to  be  restored  to 
[225] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

the  shape  which  made  her  the  most  beautiful  girl  in 
the  kingdom. 

"  Larro  was  greatly  troubled  over  this.  He  knew 
that  if  he  went  to  the  Prince,  carrying  the  mouse,  and 
said  to  him,  '  Here,  Your  Highness,  is  your  daughter. 
I  promised  to  rescue  her,  and  I  have  been  as  good  as 
my  word  ' — he  knew  that  if  he  went  with  any  such 
tale  as  this,  he  would  be  flouted  at  court,  and,  in  all 
probability,  cast  into  prison  as  an  impudent  impostor. 
He  knew  not  what  to  do,  and  yet  he  was  very  impa- 
tient. He  never  lost  his  good  humour,  however,  and 
when  he  was  worried  the  worst,  he  would  turn  for  con- 
solation to  his  beautiful  mouse.  The  little  creature 
was  very  playful,  and  Larro  spent  many  an  hour 
watching  its  antics.  It  seemed  to  be  perfectly  con- 
tented when  it  was  with  Larro,  and  when  he  left  it  in 
a  cosey  little  box  that  he  had  made  for  it,  it  was  rest- 
less until  he  returned. 

"  Many  days  passed  in  this  way,  and  after  a  while 
Larro  began  to  fear  that  the  young  Princess  was  never 
to  be  restored  to  her  family  and  friends  in  any  other 
shape  than  that  of  a  mouse.  Not  a  day  passed  that 
he  did  not  call  on  his  godmother,  but  she  seemed  to 
[226] 


Larro  rescues  the  mouse-princess. 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

be  deaf  to  his  entreaties,  for  she  failed  to  answer  his 
summons.  At  last,  after  many  long  and  weary  days, 
Larroline  made  her  appearance  in  response  to  the 
pleadings  of  Larro. 

"  '  I  have  been  having  troubles  of  my  own,'  she  ex- 
plained. '  Owing  to  my  interest  in  you  and  the  young 
Princess,  the  monster  in  India  summoned  me  to  appear 
before  his  tribunal.  I  refused,  of  course,  and  then 
he  threatened  to  make  war  on  our  dear  Queen.  As 
we  are  not  warlike  in  our  dispositions,  there  was  con- 
siderable disturbance.  At  last,  at  my  request,  the 
Queen  banished  me  from  her  kingdom  for  three 
months.  The  monster  in  India  thought  that  he  or 
some  of  his  servants  would  be  able  to  seize  me;  but 
I  kept  out  of  their  way;  and  the  term  of  my  banish- 
ment is  now  over.  And  now,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  ' 

"  Whereupon  Larro  told  her  that  the  Princess 
Geraldine  was  as  far  from  being  restored  to  her 
parents  and  friends  as  ever,  and  he  asked  his  god- 
mother to  aid  him  in  the  matter.  At  this  request,  the 
good  fairy  grew  sad.  *  There  is  only  one  way  to 
restore  her  to  her  parents  and  friends,'  said  Lar- 
roline, *  and  if  you  persist  in  following  that  way,  you 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

will  be  exposed  to  ridicule  and  insult,  perhaps  to  im- 
prisonment. In  short,  you  will  have  serious  trouble.' 

"  '  Why,  as  to  that,'  responded  Larro,  *  there  is 
nothing  but  trouble  in  this  world,  anyway,  and  I  may 
as  well  begin  to  have  mine ;  I  have  had  little  so  far.' 

"  '  Well,  you  must  decide  the  matter  for  yourself. 
If  you  would  have  the  Princess  Geraldine  resume  her 
natural  shape,  you  must  journey  toward  the  capital. 
On  your  way  thither,  you  must  endeavour,  in  every 
town,  to  find  some  minister  who  will  be  willing  to 
marry  you  to  a  mouse.  You  will  find  none,  of  course, 
but  you  must  continue  firm  in  your  purpose,  and  make 
application  to  every  priest  and  public  official  that  you 
can  find.  I  warn  you  beforehand,'  continued  Lar- 
roline,  '  that  this  will  make  you  notorious  wherever 
you  go  and  subject  you  to  many  indignities.' 

"  Larro  thought  the  matter  over,  and  while  he  was 
hesitating  the  poor  little  mouse  crept  into  his  hand, 
and  looked  at  him  so  pitifully  that  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  undertake  the  task,  no  matter  what  might 
happen.  So  he  started  the  next  day,  and  at  every 
hamlet  and  village  where  there  was  a  priest  or  public 
official,  he  made  known  his  desire  to  be  married  to  a 
[230] 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

mouse,  and  to  show  that  he  made  the  request  in  good 
faith,  he  produced  the  mouse  that  he  desired  to  marry. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  he  became  notorious,  so  much 
so  that  his  notoriety  ran  before  him,  and  reached  the 
capital,  where  the  Prince  lived,  long  before  Larro  did. 
He  was  hissed  out  of  hamlets,  and  hooted  out  of  vil- 
lages, and  when  he  was  engaged  in  retiring  as  peace- 
fully as  he  could,  he  was  followed  by  a  rabble  which 
pelted  him  with  stones,  and  pursued  him  with  curses. 
He  found  himself  in  a  very  bad  way,  indeed ;  and  when 
he  thought  that  he  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  per- 
secutions, he  was  seized  and  thrown  in  jail. 

"  This  occurred  in  a  town  which  was  only  a  few 
hours'  journey  from  the  capital — a  town  which  was 
proud  of  its  nearness  to  the  seat  of  government,  and 
which  strove  to  pattern  itself  after  the  capital,  which 
was  the  home  of  the  Prince  and  the  headquarters  of 
justice.  The  dignitaries  sat  upon  Larro's  case,  and 
sought  to  do  that  which  they  thought  would  be  done 
at  the  capital.  It  was  a  case  that  had  no  precedent. 
All  the  records  were  searched  in  vain  to  discover  the 
penalty  attached  to  the  crime  of  desiring  to  marry  a 
mouse.  Musty  old  documents  were  brought  to  light, 
[231] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

and  even  tradition  was  appealed  to.  But  the  musty 
old  documents  were  silent  on  the  subject,  and  tradi- 
tion had  nothing  to  say. 

"  The  magistrates,  however,  thought  that  it  would 
be  well  to  detain  Larro  until  they  could  receive  advices 
from  the  capital.  So  they  flung  him  into  prison, 
where  he  would  have  been  inconsolable,  but  for  the 
companionship  of  his  dear  little  mouse,  which  amused 
him  by  its  playfulness,  and  cheered  him  by  a  hundred 
little  tokens  of  affection. 

"  The  authorities  at  the  capital  were  a  long  time 
in  acting,  and  finally  appealed  to  the  Prince,  who  was 
more  struck  by  the  humour  of  the  affair  than  by  its 
seriousness.  His  decision  was  that  the  man  who 
wanted  to  marry  a  mouse  was  a  harmless  lunatic,  and 
he  ordered  that  Larro  be  conveyed  to  the  capital,  so 
that  his  case  might  be  inquired  into.  Accordingly, 
the  long-suffering  lad  was  released  from  prison,  and 
carried  before  the  Prince.  The  officials  who  had  him 
in  charge  maintained  such  a  gravity  of  demeanour, 
and  conducted  themselves  with  such  solemnity,  that 
Larro  could  hardly  restrain  his  laughter. 

"  The  Prince  knew  Larro  at  once,  and  felt  sorry  that 


Larro,  thrown  into  prison,  is  comforted  by  his  little  companion. 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 

such  a  bright  lad  should  have  lost  his  mind ;  and  with 
his  sympathy  came  the  thought  that  the  Prince  him- 
self was  responsible  for  Larro's  condition.  The 
greeting  of  the  Prince  was  very  cordial.  He  had  been 
attracted  to  the  lad  from  the  first,  and,  if  appear- 
ances were  not  deceitful,  Larro  still  retained  all  those 
qualities  that  had  drawn  the  attention  of  the  Prince. 
He  bore  the  marks  of  ill-usage,  but  in  other  respects 
he  was  unchanged. 

"  After  thanking  them  for  their  zeal  in  the  matter, 
the  Prince  dismissed  the  solemn  officials  who  had 
taken  Larro  in  charge,  and  then  he  turned  to  the  lad 
for  an  explanation.  '  What  is  this  I  hear?  '  inquired 
the  Prince.  '  The  report  is  that  you  are  travelling 
about  over  the  kingdom  trying  to  find  someone  who 
will  marry  you  to  a  mouse.  It  is  incredible.  Surely 
a  lad  as  bright  as  you  seem  to  be  cannot  have  lost  your 
mind.  What  is  the  truth  of  the  matter?  ' 

"  '  The  report  is  true,  Your  Highness.  I  have  no 
higher  ambition  than  to  marry  a  mouse — or,  rather, 
the  particular  mouse  that  I  have  in  my  posses- 
sion.' 

"  The  Prince  showed  no  sign  of  astonishment  or 
[235] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

disgust.  He  spoke  as  if  he  considered  Larro  per- 
fectly sane.  '  What  put  such  a  humourous  idea  in 
your  head?  '  asked  the  Prince,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Larro  thought  the  Prince  was  laughing  because  the 
proposition  was  such  an  absurd  one,  and  he  blushed 
with  embarrassment ;  but  he  was  persistent.  "  It  can 
do  no  harm,  Your  Highness.  I  cannot  tell  you  why  it 
is  necessary  for  me  to  marry  the  mouse.  I  can  only 
say  that  you  will  be  made  happy  by  granting  it,  and 
that  all  those  who  have  persecuted  me  as  a  knave  or  a 
lunatic  will  regret  it  as  long  as  they  live.' 

"  '  Well,  it  is  your  affair,'  said  the  Prince.  '  Of 
course  I  think  it  is  very  foolish,  but  we  cannot  all  be 
wise.  Have  you  any  news  of  my  daughter?  ' 

"  '  I  have,  Your  Highness — great  news.  When  you 
have  permitted  me  to  marry  the  mouse,  you  shall  know 
all.' 

"  So  the  Prince  summoned  one  of  his  magistrates, 
and  commanded  him  to  marry  Larro  to  the  mouse. 
The  magistrate  protested,  but  the  Prince  insisted, 
and,  finally,  all  the  arrangements  for  the  wedding 
were  made.  The  news  of  this  queer  ceremony  flew 
from  tongue  to  tongue,  and  presently  Larro  had  more 
[236] 


THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

witnesses  than  he  cared  to  face.  The  magistrate  was 
as  solemn  as  he  could  be  under  the  circumstances,  but 
he  could  not  refrain  from  showing  his  disgust.  He 
changed  the  form  of  the  ceremony  somewhat.  In- 
stead of  saying,  Will  you  take  this  woman  for  your 
wedded  wife,  he  said,  '  Will  you  take  this  little  beast 
for  your  wife.' 

"  When  Larro  answered  this  question  with  a  loud 
and  emphatic  '  I  will ! '  behold !  no  mouse  was  there. 
It  had  disappeared,  and  in  its  place  stood  a  beautiful 
young  woman,  whose  face  was  lighted  with  happi- 
ness. The  magistrate  was  so  dumfounded  that  he 
dropped  his  book,  and  stared  with  astonishment. 
Then  the  beautiful  young  woman,  who  was  no  other 
than  the  Princess  Geraldine,  ran  and  embraced  her 
father.  In  the  midst  of  the  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment, only  the  Princess  was  calm.  She  looked  around 
for  Larro,  but  he  was  no  longer  where  she  had  left 
him;  and,  just  then,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  as 
he  went  along  a  corridor  to  the  palace  entrance.  With 
no  thought  of  her  position,  or  the  dignity  which  it 
demanded,  the  Princess  ran  after  Larro,  and  insisted 
on  his  returning  with  her.  They  went  to  the  Prince 
[237] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

hand-in-hand,  and  kneeled  before  him  as  if  to  ask  his 
blessing. 

"  Then  the  Princess,  still  holding  Larro's  hand,  led 
him  before  the  magistrate.  By  the  time  that  flus- 
trated  dignitary  had  recovered  his  gravity,  the  Prin- 
cess said  to  him  very  sweetly,  '  I  pray  you,  sir,  go 
on  with  the  ceremony ;  as  it  stands,  it  is  a  one-sided 
affair.'  The  magistrate  looked  at  the  Prince  and 
then  at  the  Princess,  as  if  in  doubt;  and  then  he 
cleared  his  throat,  and  put  the  question  to  the  Prin- 
cess, who  replied  with  an  '  I  will ! '  as  emphatic  as  that 
of  Larro. 

"  It  might  be  supposed  that  this  marriage  of  the 
Princess  to  a  peasant  would  have  been  unpopular; 
but  it  was  not  so.  There  were  a  few  who  sneered  at 
it,  but  the  great  body  of  the  people  approved  it ;  and 
they  begun  to  regard  their  Prince  with  an  interest 
and  affection  that  they  had  not  felt  before.  In  the 
end,  it  was  the  means  of  serving  the  kingdom,  for 
when  a  neighbouring  king  marched  into  their  country, 
all  the  people  who  could  bear  arms  rallied  around 
their  peasant  general,  as  Larro  was  called,  and  cap- 
tured the  opposing  army." 

[238] 


The  princess  insists  that  Larro  return  to  finish  the  ceremony. 


THE   MOUSE   PRINCESS 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  while,  and  then  Wally 
Wanderoon  pretended  to  wake  up  with  a  snort. 
"  Are  you  finished?  "  he  asked.  "  Are  you  right  cer- 
tain that  you  didn't  leave  out  sixty  or  seventy  chap- 
ters? We'd  like  to  have  it  all." 

"Not  me!"  exclaimed  Drusilla.  "  Nuff's  miff, 
an'  too  much  is  a  plenty." 

"  Why,  I  thought  it  was  pretty  good,"  said  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

"  Oh,  thank  you ! "  exclaimed  the  story-teller  in  a 
weak  voice ;  "  thank  you  very  much !  " 

"  You'd  better  rest  yourself  now,"  said  Wally 
Wanderoon.  "  I  expected  every  minute  to  hear  you 
fetch  a  gasp  and  expire.  The  tale  is  like  a  spider's 
web;  it's  all  over  the  trees  and  bushes,  and  flying  in 
the  air.  The  hank  of  yarn  you  had  in  one  part  of 
it  aint  a  circumstance  to  the  story  itself.  I  hope  you'll 
feel  better  after  a  while." 

"  Well,  I  thought  you  liked  old-fashioned  stories, 
and  that  is  the  way  they  used  to  be  told  when  people 
had  plenty  of  time  to  listen.  Those  who  are  in  a 
hurry,  or  who  have  business  to  attend  to,  can't  enjoy 
a  good  story.  That's  my  experience." 
[241] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

"It  may  be  so,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon, 
"  but  in  my  opinion  a  short  and  snappy  story  is  en- 
joyed by  those  who  have  time,  as  well  as  by  those  who 
are  in  a  hurry." 

Wally  Wanderoon  looked  at  Brasilia  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  Suppose  you  try  your  hand  ?  "  At  least 
that  was  the  interpretation  the  negro  girl  gave  to  his 
glance.  "  You  nee'nter  look  at  me  dataway,  I  aint 
no  tale-teller.  Set  me  down  befo'  a  pot  er  greens, 
an'  I'll  show  you  what  eatin'  is,  but  I  can't  tell  no  tale 
des  dry  so." 

"  You  used  to  remember  a  good  many,"  said  Sweet- 
est Susan. 

"Why,  she  can  tell  you  fifty,"  declared  Buster 
John,  "  when  you  don't  want  to  hear  them.  But  if 
she  thinks  you  want  to  hear  them,  she  wouldn't  tell 
you  one  to  save  your  life." 

"  Does  I  do  dataway  sho  miff?  "  inquired  Brasilia, 
laughing  gleefully. 

"  Yes — and  you  think  it's  mighty  smart,"  replied 
Buster  John. 

"  As  for  me,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon,  "  I  have 
no  particular  appetite  for  stories  to-day.  Those 


THE    MOUSE    PRINCESS 
that  I  have  heard  are  so  mortally  poor  that  I  think 
I  could  go  on   for  years  and  never  want  to  hear 
another." 

"  Well,  I  bet  you  I  kin  tell  one  dat  you'd  like  ter 
hear;  an'  'taint  no  nigger  tale  nother.  My  gran'- 
mammy  tole  it  ter  me,  an'  she  said  she  got  it  fum  de 
white  folks." 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  Don't  keep  us  waiting." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  an'  dat's  all  I  kin  do,"  remarked 
Drusilla.  "  I  can't  tell  it  like  my  gran'mammy,  kaze 
she  sot  up  nights,  ol'  ez  she  wuz,  an'  tol'  tales  ef  she 
could  git  anybody  ter  lis'n  at  her.  But  me — ef  I  sot 
up  I  nodded,  an'  when  dat's  de  case,  what  you  gwine- 
terdo?" 

"  Why,  we  are  going  to  listen  to  your  story  when- 
ever you  get  in  the  humour  to  tell  it,"  said  Wally 
Wanderoon. 

Drusilla  picked  at  her  frock  a  moment,  as  if  trying 
to  recall  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  story,  and  then 
began. 


[243] 


IX 

THE   BOY  AND   THE   KING 

££  ^^^V  NE  time  dey  wuz  a  man  what  had  sech 
^  M  a  big  fambly  dat  he  wuz  hard  pushed 
fer  ter  feed  um  all.  He  had  thirteen 
chillun,  an'  de  biggest  wan't  mo'n  fifteen.  Dey  wuz 
so  many  un  um  dat  dey  took  turns  at  gwine  ter  bed 
hongry,  an'  den,  bimeby,  dey  come  a  bad  crop  year. 
De  season  wuz  so  dry  dat  dey  can't  even  raise  'taters. 
Dey  scuffled  'long  de  best  dey  could,  but  it  got  so  atter 
so  long  a  time  dat  sump'n  gotter  be  done,  an'  de 
oldest  boy,  he  up  an'  say  dat  he  gwine  some'rs  whar 
he  kin  am  his  livin'  an'  maybe  he'p  his  daddy  an' 
mammy. 

"  Well,  dey  wuz  great  gwine-ons  when  de  time  come 
fer  him  ter  go  'way.  Dey  all  cried  an'  cried  an' 
cried,  tell  it  look  like  dey  wuz  gwineter  cry  der  eyes 
out.  Ef  you'll  take  notice,  poor  folks  like  der  fam- 
blies  a  heap  better  dan  what  rich  folks  does.  Any- 
how, dat's  what  my  granny  say,  an'  she  sho  did  know, 
[244] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

kaze  she  wuz  mighty  nigh  a  hunderd  year  ol',  an'  she 
had  seed  sights  in  her  day  an'  time. 

"  Dish  yer  boy  wuz  name  Mack  Sump'n  er  Nother, 
— I  done  fergot  what, — so  I'll  des  call  'im  plain  Mack, 
an'  let  it  go  at  dat.  'Taint  gwineter  hurt  'im,  kaze 
he  done  dead  by  dis  time ;  my  granny  say  he  done  kick 
loose  fum  his  troubles  long  'fo'  I  wuz  born.  Well, 
dish  yer  Mack,  he  got  tired  er  eatin'  half-rashuns,  an' 
w'arin'  his  daddy's  ol'  cloze,  sech  ez  dey  wuz.  So 
one  day,  when  dey  wuz  all  settin'  roun'  de  fire,  tryin* 
ter  keep  fum  freezin',  he  up  an'  'lowed  dat  he  wuz 
gwine  ter  start  right  den  an'  dar  an'  see  ef  he  can't 
make  his  livin'.  Dey  ax  'im  whar  he  gwine.  He 
say  he  dunner  no  mo'  whar  he  gwine  dan  de  bird  in 
de  tree;  all  he  know  wuz  dat  he  wuz  gwine.  Den  he 
ax  his  mammy  fer  ter  pack  up  what  few  duds  he  got 
so  he  kin  make  a  soon  start  de  nex'  mornin'. 

"  Well,  de  mammy,  she  packed  up  de  duds,  cry  in* 
all  de  time.  She  put  urn  in  a  bag,  an'  inter  de  bag 
she  slipped  a  few  taters,  an'  a  little  rasher  er  bacon, 
not  mo'n  nuff  fer  ter  last  a  hongry  man  five  minnits. 
An'  dat  ar  Mack,  stidder  waitin'  tell  nex'  mornin' 
like  he  say  he  gwineter  do,  slung  his  bag  on  his  back, 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

got  his  walkin'-cane,  an'  put  off  down  de  road  like 
sump'n  wuz  atter  him;  he  didn't  wanter  tell  um  all 
good-bye.  But  when  dey  fin'  out  dat  he  done  gone, 
I  bet  you  dey  wuz  wheepin'  an*  whalin'  in  dat  house — 
ef  you  kin  call  it  a  house. 

"  Whiles  all  dis  wuz  gwine  on,  Mack,  he  wuz  polin' 
down  de  big  road.  Ef  he  didn't  cry  it  wuz  kaze  he 
aint  got  no  pocket  hankcher.  He  went  on,  he  did, 
an'  bimeby  he  come  ter  de  place  whar  de  road  forked. 
He  knowed  dat  one  er  de  roads  led  ter  de  town,  kaze 
he  had  been  dar  wid  his  daddy,  but  whar  de  yuther 
road  led  he  didn't  no  mo'  know  dan  de  man  in  de  moon 
— ef  dey's  any  man  dar.  He  stopped,  he  did,  an' 
study ;  an'  whiles  he  studyin',  he  got  a  notion  dat  some 
un  wuz  talkin'  ter  'im.  Den  he  look  all  'roun',  an'  dar 
under  a  tree  wuz  a  little  ol'  man.  He  wuz  bareheaded 
an'  barefooted,  an'  he  aint  got  no  coat. 

"  Dar  he  stood  shiver'n'  an'  shakin'  under  de  tree. 
Den  Mack  was  mightly  holp  up,  kaze  dar  wuz  a  man 
wuss  off  dan  what  he  wuz — colder  an'  hongrier  an' 
nakeder,  an'  he  never  spected  fer  ter  see  sech  a  sight. 
De  little  ol'  man  'low, '  My  head  col' ;  loan  me  yo'  hat.' 
Mack  say,  '  It  aint  much  uv  er  hat,  but  what  dey  is 
[246] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

un  it  youer  mo'  dan  welcome  ter.'  De  little  oP  man 
say,  '  My  body  col' ;  loan  me  yo'  coat.'  Mack  'low, 
*  Ef  my  coat  '11  keep  you  warm,  it's  mo'  dan  it's  done 
f er  me ;  but  youer  mo'  dan  welcome  ter  it.'  De  little 
oP  man  say,  '  My  foots  is  col' ;  loan  me  yo'  shoes.' 
Mack  'low,  *  Take  urn ;  if  dey  keep  yo'  foots  warm, 
it  '11  be  mo'  dan  what  dey've  done  fer  me.'  De  little 
oP  man  say,  '  I'm  hongry ;  gi'  me  what  vittles  you 
got.'  Mack  'low,  « It's  little  miff,  but  I  speck  it  '11 
do  you  mo'  good  dan  what  it  will  me,'  an'  wid  dat,  he 
gun  del  little  ol'  man  all  de  vittles  he  had  'cep'  one 
piece  er  bread. 

"  Den  he  ax  de  man  what  road  he  shill  take,  an'  de 
man  say,  *  Luck  is  allers  close  ter  de  left  han'.'  So 
Mack  tuck  de  left-han'  road,  an'  he  went  along  bare- 
footed, bareheaded,  an'  wid  no  coat  fer  ter  keep  de 
col'  out.  He  went  'long  tell  he  gun  ter  git  hongry, 
an'  bimeby  he  sot  down  on  a  log  by  de  side  er  de  road, 
an'  munched  his  piece  er  bread. 

"  He  aint  been  settin'  dar  long  'fo'  he  hear  a  noise, 

an'  when  he  look  'roun',  dar  wuz  de  little  oP  man 

settin'  on  de  yuther  een'  er  de  log.    He  wuz  all  drawed 

up  an'  swivelled,  but  he  had  a  big  bundle  in  his  han', 

[247] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

an'  he  wuz  des  es  chipper  ez  a  jay-bird.  He  giggled 
like  he  wuz  mighty  nigh  tickled  ter  death.  Mack  aint 
say  nothin',  but  he  look  at  de  man  mighty  hard. 
Bimeby,  when  de  little  ol'  man  got  over  his  gigglin' 
spell,  he  look  at  Mack  an'  'low,  *  Now  den,  young 
man,  you  done  gi'  me  purty  nigh  eve'ything  you  had, 
an'  now  I'm  gwine  ter  pay  you  back.  Take  dish  yer 
bundle  an'  open  it.' 

"  So  said,  so  done.  Mack  opened  de  bundle,  an' 
dar  wuz  a  good  suit  er  cloze,  a  nice  pair  er  shoes,  an' 
a  hat;  an'  dey  wuz  all  bran'  new.  Mack  went  in  de 
bushes  an'  put  um  on,  an'  when  he  come  back,  you 
wouldn'  hardly  'a'  knowed  him,  he  looked  so  fine  an' 
clean.  He  said  thanky-do  ter  de  man,  an'  made  his 
best  bow.  Den  de  man  gi'  'im  a  ring.  He  'low,  he 
did,  dat  de  ring  wuz  too  big  fer  Mack's  biggest 
finger,  but  anyhow,  he  must  keep  it  on  his  finger,  kaze 
ef  he  lose  it,  he'll  be  onlucky ;  but  ef  he  don't  lose  it, 
an'  keep  it  on  his  finger — de  big  finger  er  his  left 
han' — he  kin  do  anything  he  try  ter  do. 

"  Mack  look  at  de  ring,  an'  try  it  on,  an'  when  he 
turn  'roun  fer  ter  say  thanky  ter  de  little  ol'  man, 
dey  wan't  nobody  dar.  He  look  an'  look,  but  dey 
[248] 


The  little  old  man  appears  again. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

aint  nobody  in  sight,  an'  it  make  'im  feel  mighty 
quare,  kaze  he  aint  been  use  ter  folks  fadin'  away 
right  befo'  his  eyes.  He  picked  up  his  foots,  an'  I 
bet  you  he  got  away  fum  dar. 

"  He  went  on  an'  went  on,  an'  bimeby,  atter  so  long 
a  time,  he  come  inter  a  new  country,  an'  in  dat  coun- 
try he  hear  'bout  de  quare  doin's  er  de  King.  Some 
say  he  had  mo'  sense  dan  what  any  yuther  King  had, 
an'  some  say  he  wuz  start-naked  crazy.  Mack  lis'en 
at  all  dis  talk,  but  he  aint  say  nothin'.  When  dey 
ax  'im  'bout  de  King,  he  say  he  don't  know  de  King, 
an'  de  King  don't  know  him.  Den  dey  say  dat  he 
de  ve'y  man  f er  ter  settle  a  'spute  what  dey  been 
havin',  an'  den  dey  ax  'im  what  he  think  uv  a  King 
what  wanter  gi'  his  daughter  ter  de  man  what  kin 
clean  out  his  stable,  an'  sweep  out  his  back  yard,  an' 
fill  up  de  dry  well. 

"  Mack  ax  ef  anybody  is  ever  tried  fer  ter  do  all 
dis.  Dey  say  dat  hunderds  er  folks  is  tried,  an'  come 
'way  widout  doin'  one  er  de  yuther.  Den  Mack  'low, 
he  did,  dat  de  King  is  smart  man,  kase  he  huntin'  fer 
somebody  what  kin  do  better  dan  anybody  else,  an' 
he  say  he  gwinter  take  de  job,  an'  see  ef  he  can't 
[251] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

show  de  King  how  ter  clean  up  things  at  his 
house. 

"  Well,  de  word  went  round  dat  a  young  man  f  um 
a  fur  country  is  gwinter  try  his  han'  at  cleanin'  out 
de  place  whar  de  King  done  his  kingin',  an'  bimeby 
it  come  ter  de  year  er  de  King,  an'  he  des  lay  back  on 
his  th'one,  an'  laughed  tell  he  can't  laugh  no  mo' ;  an' 
den  he  call  in  his  daughter  an'  tol'  her  dat  dey  wuz 
another  fool  comin'  fer  ter  clean  out  his  stable.  He 
broke  out  in  a  hoss  laugh,  but  de  gal,  she  aint  see 
de  joke  dis  time.  She  sot  dar  an'  twis'  her  apern 
string,  an'  vow  dat  she  aint  gwineter  play  no  sech 
game;  she  'low  dat  bimeby  some  good-fer-nothin'  '11 
come  an'  do  what  nobody  else  can't  do,  an'  den  she'll 
hatter  marry  'im  whedder  er  no.  She  say  she  done 
make  up  her  min'  what  ter  do,  an'  she  gwineter 
doit. 

"  So  she  went  an'  fix  herself  up  like  one  er  de  poor 
folks.  She  shucked  her  silk  duds,  an'  all  her  fine 
cloze,  an'  come  out'n  her  room  lookin'  fer  all  de  worl' 
like  she  b'longded  ter  de  poor  white  trash,  an'  when 
Mack  come  walkin'  up  ter  de  house  whar  de  kingin' 
wuz  done,  she  wuz  walkin'  'roun'  de  yard  barefooted, 
[252] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

an'  her  cloze  looked  like  dey  had  been  fished  outer  de 
rag-bag. 

"  Mack  say  howdy,  an'  tuck  off  his  hat.  De  gal 
'low,  *  You  couldn't  do  no  mo'  ef  I  wuz  de  King's 
daughter.'  Mack  say,  *  I  bet  youer  lots  purtier  dan 
what  de  King's  daughter  is.'  De  gal  make  answer, 
*  I  aint  no  purtier,  an'  I  aint  got  no  fine  cloze  like  de 
King's  daughter.  What  you  want  'roun'  here,  any- 
how? '  Mack  'low,  '  I  may  want  you  'fo'  I  git  thoo, 
but  what  I  want  right  now  is  fer  somebody  ter  run  an' 
tell  de  King  dat  dey's  a  man  out  here  what  want  ter 
do  some  cleanin'  fer  'im.'  De  gal  went  'roun'  de  back 
way,  an'  bimeby  somebody  come  ter  de  door,  an'  ax 
Mack  what  he  want.  Mack  say  he  des  wanter  do  some 
cleanin'  fer  de  King.  Some  un  done  tol'  'im,  he  say, 
dat  de  King  want  his  stable  cleaned  out,  an'  his  back 
yard  swep'.  De  door-keeper  run  an'  tol'  de  King,  an' 
he  tol'  um  fer  ter  show  de  fool  in. 

"  So  Mack,  he  went  in  whar  de  King  wuz,  an'  he 
seed  mo'  fine  doin's  dan  he  ever  see  befo'  in  all  his  born 
days.  He  mired  up  in  de  kyarpits,  an'  come  mighty 
nigh  walkin'  headfo'most  in  a  big  lookin'-glass  on  de 
wall.  'Bout  dat  time  he  gun  ter  feel  shaky,  an'  he 
[253] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

got  de  idee  dat  maybe  he'd  come  ter  de  wrong  place. 
But  he  helt  up  his  head,  an'  make  like  he  been  use  ter 
dat  kinder  doin's  all  his  life.  Bimeby,  de  house  gal 
come  an'  tol'  'im  dat  de  King  'd  see  'im,  an'  she  showed 
'im  inter  a  great  big  room  dat  look  like  it  'd  hoi'  a 
hunderd  folks,  an'  up  on  a  flatform  sot  de  King.  He 
had  his  hankcher  on  his  mouf  fer  ter  keep  fum 
laughin',  an'  eve'y  once  in  a  while  he'd  mighty  nigh 
strangle  hisse'f  wid  coughin'. 

"  Mack  tol'  him  howdy  ez  perlite  ez  he  could,  an* 
bowed  ez  low  ez  he  knowed  how.  Den  he  tol'  de  King 
dat  he  hear  talk  dat  he  had  a  job  er  cleanin'  he  want 
done.  De  King  say  dat  de  folks  what  tol'  'im  dat 
aint  tell  no  lie ;  an'  den  he  went  on  ter  say  dat  he  been 
tryin'  fer  de  longest  fer  ter  git  somebody  what  kin 
clean  out  his  stable,  sweep  his  back  yard,  an'  fill  a 
dry  well.  Mack  'low  dat  he'll  try  ter  do  de  best  he 
kin. 

"  So  de  King  ter  make  sho  er  de  matter  tol'  'im  dat 
ef  he  done  de  job,  he  mought  marry  his  daughter,  an' 
ef  he  can't  do  de  job,  he'll  hatter  go  ter  jail  fer  a  spell, 
an'  den  he  sont  fer  de  carriage-driver,  an'  tol'  'im  ter 
show  de  young  man  whar  de  stable  is.  Dey  aint  no 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

two  ways  about  it,  Mack  wuz  feelin'  shaky,  an'  ef  he 
could  'a'  backed  out  er  doin'  de  job,  he  wouldn't  'a' 
gone  nigh  de  stable,  but  dar  he  wuz  an'  he  couldn't 
git  out'n  it.  He  looked  in  de  stable,  an'  it  wuz  mighty 
nigh  chock  full  er  dirt  an'  straw.  But  he  shucked  his 
coat,  an'  got  'im  a  spade  an'  went  ter  work. 

"  Now  den,  when  Mack  tuck  off  his  coat,  his  ring 
drapped  on  de  groun'  close  by,  but  he  aint  miss  it. 
He  des  grabbed  de  spade,  an'  went  ter  work,  but  fer 
eve'y  shovel  full  he  th'owed  out,  seven  shovels  full 
come  in  ag'in.  He  worked  on  a  while,  wonderin'  how 
high  de  jail  wuz,  an'  den  all  uv  a  sudden  he  missed 
his  ring.  He  knowed  he  had  it  on  when  he  went 
ter  pull  off  his  coat,  an'  so  he  hunted  'bout  fer 
it,  an'  bimeby  he  foun'  it.  Dis  make  'im  feel  bet- 
ter. 

"  Bout  dat  time  de  gal  what  he  seed  in  de  front 
yard  er  de  King's  house  come  santerin'  long,  an'  ax 
'im  how  he  gittin'  long.  Mack  say  he  gittin'  long 
purty  well  in  spite  er  de  conjerments.  Den  de  gal 
tell  'im  dat  he'll  hatter  marry  de  King's  daughter  ef 
he  do  all  dat  he  sot  out  ter  do ;  but  Mack,  he  say,  he 
did,  dat  he'll  not  marry  de  King's  daughter  while  de 
[255] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

gal  he  wuz  talkin'  wid  wuz  on  top  er  de  groun'.  Dis 
make  de  gal  blush,  an'  she  ax  'im  how  come  he'd  ruther 
marry  her  dan  ter  marry  de  King's  daughter,  an' 
Mack  up  an'  say  dat  he  done  seed  her,  an'  he  aint 
never  seed  de  King's  daughter.  Den  de  gal  say, 
'  Spozen  she  lots  purtier  dan  what  I  is?  ' 

"  Mack  'low,  he  did,  dat  she  kin  keep  her  purty  fer 
some  un  else.  Den  he  tell  de  gal  dat  he'll  marry  her 
ef  she'll  have  'im,  but  she  say  she  aint  nothin'  but  a 
house  gal,  an'  she  don't  wanter  stan'  in  his  way,  kaze 
he  mought  be  sorry  he  married  her  stidder  de  King's 
daughter.  But  Mack  say  he  aint  gwineter  have  it 
dataway.  De  gal  aint  say  nothin'  ter  dis,  but  she  look 
mighty  willin'. 

"  Den  Mack,  wid  his  ring  on  his  finger,  went  ter 
work  cleanin'  out  de  stable,  an'  de  way  he  make  de 
trash  an'  dirt  fly  wuz  a  plum  sight  ter  see.  De  gal 
say,  '  Yon'  come  de  King,'  an'  den  she  made  herse'f 
skace.  Well,  de  King  come  up,  he  did,  an'  he  wuz  so 
'stonished  dat  he  can't  say  nothin'.  De  dirt  an'  straw 
come  flyin'  out  like  it  wuz  run  thoo  a  th'ashin'  ma- 
chine, an'  ef  he  hadn't  'a'  jumped  out'n  de  way, 
'twould  'a'  kivvered  him  plum  up,  kaze  eve'y  time 
[256] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

Mack  'ud  fling  out  one  shovel  full,  'lev'm  mo'  would 
jump  up  an'  f oiler  atter. 

"  De  stable  wuz  cleaned  out  whiles  de  King  wuz 
stan'in'  dar  wid  his  mouf  open,  an'  when  Mack  come 
out,  he  look  des  ez  fresh  ez  ef  he  hadn't  done  no  work. 
De  King,  he  'low,  '  I  speck  you'll  git  my  daughter,' 
but  Mack,  he  say  he  des  done  de  job  fer  fun,  kaze  he 
got  his  eye  on  'nother  gal.  De  King  'low, '  You  mean 
de  gal  what  wuz  here  des  now  ?  '  Mack  say,  *  Yasser.' 
De  King  sorter  grinned,  but  he  aint  let  on. 

"  Den  Mack  ax  'im  wharbouts  de  dry  well  is,  an' 
de  King  make  answer  dat  it's  right  dar  close  ter  de 
stable,  an'  sho  nuff,  dar  'twuz,  an'  it  look  like  it  wuz 
in  about  a  mile  deep.  De  King,  he  went  on  back  ter 
de  house  whar  he  do  his  kingin'  at,  an'  Mack,  he 
whirled  in  fer  ter  fill  up  de  dry  well.  It  look  like  de 
dirt  what  he  tuck  fum  de  stable  des  went  an'  got  in 
de  dry  well  by  itse'f,  kaze  when  he  flung  one  shovel 
full  in,  forty  wheelbarrows  full  would  f  oiler  atter  an' 
fall  in  de  well.  An'  'twant  ten  minnits  'fo'  de  well  wuz 
full  up  ter  de  top. 

"  Mack  went  on  up  ter  de  house,  an*  de  King, 
settin'  on  de  porch,  seed  'im.     He  'low,  *  I  speck  de 
[257] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

well  wuz  too  much  f er  you.'  Mack  say,  *  No  sirree ;  I 
fulled  it  up  wid  de  dirt  I  flung  out'n  de  stable. 
'Twant  no  trouble  'tall.  De  King  look  at  'im  right 
hard  an'  say,  *  Looky  here,  young  man,  what  kinder 
chap  is  you,  anyhow?  '  Mack  'low,  '  I'm  des  a  com- 
mon eve'yday  chap  what  aint  skeered  er  work.  What 
I  does  I  does  so  easy  dat  I  don't  charge  nothin'  fer  it.' 
De  King  say,  *  Well,  dar's  de  back  yard  an'  de  front 
yard  fer  ter  clean  up.'  Mack  'low,  '  I  lay  off  ter  do 
dat  ter-night  when  de  dus'  won't  bodder  nobody.' 

"  At  dat,  de  King  laugh  loud  an'  laugh  long. 
Mack  say,  *  You  must  sholy  be  tickled.'  Dis  make  de 
King  laugh  louder  dan  ever,  an'  Mack  went  off  an' 
sot  down  in  de  shade  an'  wondered  what  make  de 
King  laugh  so  hard.  He  sot  dar,  he  did,  tell  he  got 
ter  noddin',  an'  den  he  fell  sound  ersleep.  Whiles 
he  wuz  sno'in',  de  gal  come  out  ter  see  wharbouts  he 
wuz.  'Twant  long  'fo'  she  foun'  'im,  an'  den  she 
stood  lookin'  at  'im,  kinder  smilin'  ter  herse'f .  When 
her  eye  fell  on  de  ring,  she  flung  back  her  head  an' 
grinned.  She  thought  ter  herse'f  dat  he  gwineter 
marry  her  anyhow,  an'  'twouldn't  be  no  harm  fer  ter 
take  de  ring  onbeknownst  ter  'im.  So  she  crope  up, 
[258] 


Mack  at  work  in  the  stable. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

easy  ez  she  kin,  an'  slipped  de  ring  off'n  his  finger, 
an'  went  flyin'  ter  de  house. 

"  Atter  so  long  a  time,  Mack  woke  up,  an'  missed 
his  ring,  an'  right  den  an'  dar  he  had  sho  nuff  trouble 
in  his  min'.  He  aint  got  no  idee  whar  de  ring  is.  He 
knowed  he  had  it  on  when  he  sot  down  dar,  an'  he 
couldn't  make  out  what  had  gone  wid  it.  Bimeby,  de 
gal  come  out  fer  ter  see  ef  he  wuz  wake,  an'  what  he 
gwineter  say  'bout  his  ring — you  know  how  gals  is. 
Well,  out  she  come,  but  Mack,  stidder  talkin'  'bout 
his  ring,  tol'  de  gal  dat  he'd  hatter  go  back  home.  He 
done  had  a  dream  dat  his  mammy  wuz  sick,  an'  while 
he'd  like  ter  stay  on  'count  er  de  gal,  he  wuz  bleeze 
ter  go  back  home. 

"  De  gal  look  sollum  when  she  hear  dis  kinder  news, 
an'  when  she  talk  she  had  a  kinder  ketch  in  her  goozle. 
She  say,  '  I'm  mighty  sorry  you  gwine,  atter  what 
you  tol'  me,  but  ef  you  gwine  you  better  not  tell  de 
King.'  Den  she  look  at  his  han'  an'  say,  '  Law !  whar 
yo'  fine  ring?  '  Mack  'low, '  I  done  lost  it,  an'  I  can't 
fin'  it  nowhar.  Dat  ring  wuz  my  fortune;  I  can't 
no  nothin'  widout  it.  I  laid  off  fer  ter  gi'  you  de  ring 
what  my  mammy  gi'  me  when  I  started  on  my  journey, 
[261] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

but  'taint  no  use  now;  wid  ray  good-luck  ring  gone, 
I  can't  never  hope  ter  git  you.'  De  gal  say,  '  When 
you  gwineter  start  ?  '  an'  he  'low  dat  he  gwineter  make 
tracks  fum  dar  des  ez  soon  ez  night  come. 

"  De  gal  say  she  mighty  sorry,  an'  Mack  say  she 
can't  be  half  ez  sorry  ez  he  wuz,  an'  not  nigh  ez  lone- 
some. De  gal  sorter  stood  'roun',  waitin'  fer  Mack 
ter  say  sump'n,  but  he  wuz  feelin'  too  bad;  he  des 
hung  his  head  an'  sot  dar  wid  his  mouf  shot.  Den 
de  gal  ax  'im  not  ter  go  tell  he  see  her,  an'  he  promise 
dat  he  won't  ef  he  kin  see  her  To'  night. 

"Well,  des  'fo'  night  fell,  here  come  de  gal  wid 
de  ring.  She  aint  tell  no  tale  'bout  it ;  she  des  up'n 
say  dat  she  tuck  it  kaze  she  wanted  it.  She  'low, 
'  Atter  what  you  said  down  yonder  in  de  hoss-lot,  I 
felt  like  I  had  ez  good  a  right  ter  dat  ring  ez  any 
udder  gal — an'  dat's  why  I  tuck  it.  Mack  say  he 
aint  blamin'  her  one  bit,  not  one  grain,  an'  she  look 
so  nice  when  he  say  it  dat  Mack  feel  his  heart  go 
flippity-flop.  She  come  up  close  ter  him  when  she 
gi'  'im  de  ring,  an'  put  her  han'  on  his,  an'  'twuz  sech 
a  saft  little  han'  he  can't  he'p  squeezin'  it  a  little  bit. 
But  when  he  went  ter  put  his  arm  'roun'  her,  she 
[262] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

broke  away  fum  'im  an'  run  in  de  house  des  like  she 
oughter  done,  kaze  she'd  been  raise'  right,  an'  knowed 
what  she  wuz  doin'. 

"  When  night  come,  Mack  got  'im  a  big  brush- 
broom,  an'  started  ter  sweep  de  trash  an'  dirt  out'n  de 
yard.  He  seed  'fo'  de  sun  went  down  how  bad  it 
needed  cleanin',  an'  he  say  ter  hisse'f  dat  he  don't 
wanter  marry  de  King's  daughter  ef  she  aint  no  better 
housekeeper  dan  ter  let  de  front  an'  back  yard  stay 
lookin'  like  dat.  He  skacely  knowed  whar  ter  begin 
at,  but  when  he  did  start  in,  a  high  wind  come  up 
an'  blowed  de  dirt  an'  trash  'way  ez  fast  ez  he  kin  raise 
it  wid  his  brush-broom;  an'  bimeby  he  aint  had  ter 
sweep  'tall,  kaze  de  win'  got  stronger  an'  stronger, 
an'  it  des  pick  up  de  trash  an'  de  dust  an'  tuck  it 
clean  away. 

"  De  King,  he  hear  de  wind,  he  did,  an'  he  ax  what 
all  dat  noise  is.  His  daughter  say  it's  his  son-in-law 
doin'  work  dat  he  aint  got  no  business  ter  do.  De 
King  say  it's  a  big  storm  comin'  up,  an'  de  gal  'low 
dat  her  sweet'art  done  called  on  Brer  Wind  fer  ter 
he'p  'im  sweep  de  yard. 

"  De  King  had  de  idee  dat  his  daughter  wuz  gittin' 
[263] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

mighty  uppity,  but  he  aint  say  nothin'.  He  des  went 
inter  his  room  an'  shucked  off  his  duds,  an'  went  ter 
bed;  but  de  gal  crope  ter  her  winder,  atter  puttin' 
out  de  light,  an'  looked  out.  By  dat  time,  Mack  had 
done  finish  de  job,  an'  de  yard  wuz  clean  ez  de  floor 
er  de  house  whar  de  King  live  at.  Den  de  gal,  she 
went  ter  bed  an'  dremp  dreams  dat  she  aint  never 
dremp  befo'. 

"  De  nex'  mornin'  de  King  sont  out  an'  ax  Mack 
fer  ter  come  inter  brekkus,  but  Mack  make  answer  dat 
he  done  had  his  brekkus  too  long  ter  talk  about.  Dem 
what  do  de  kingin'  don't  hatter  git  up  soon  in  de 
mornin',  an'  dey  eats  der  brekkus  late.  Dish  yer 
King  what  I'm  a-tellin'  you  'bout  wan't  no  better  dan 
any  er  de  rest  un  urn.  He  had  late  brekkus,  an'  he 
put  on  airs,  an'  sassed  eve'ybody  when  he  feel  like 
it.  But  he  come  out  atter  while,  an'  he  come  mighty 
nigh  faintin'  when  he  seed  how  clean  bofe  his  yards 
wuz. 

"  He  'low,  '  Whar  did  you  pile  de  trash?  '     Mack 

say  dat  he  don't  b'lieve  in  doin'  no  half-way  job,  so 

he  tuck'n  tuck  de  trash  off  whar  'twon't  pester  nobody 

no  mo'.     Dis  make  de  King  scratch  his  head.     He 

[264] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

bleeze  ter  stan'  up  ter  his  promise,  an'  so  he  ax  Mack 
in  de  house  whar  he  do  his  kingin'  at,  an'  ax  'im  fer 
ter  take  a  seat  an'  make  hisse'f  comf 'tubble.  Den  de 
King  clum  up  on  his  th'one,  an'  sont  out  fer  his  majers 
an'  his  cap'ns,  an'  a  whole  lot  er  yuther  folks  what  he 
knowed  right  well.  When  dey  all  come,  de  King  'low 
dat  he  done  promise  fer  ter  gi'  his  daughter  ter  de 
man  what  kin  clean  out  his  stable,  fill  de  dry  well,  an' 
sweep  de  front  an'  back  yard.  '  All  er  you-all  done 
try  it  an'  can't  do  it,'  de  King  say, '  an  a  whole  passel 
of  folks  fum  way  off  yon',  an'  dey  aint  none  un  urn 
kin  do  it  but  dish  yer  young  man  fum  de  country. 
I  got  ter  keep  my  promise,'  de  King  say. 

"  Wid  dat  dey  all  hung  der  heads  'cep'  Mack.  He 
des  sot  dar  thinkin'  how  he  kin  tell  de  King  dat  he 
don't  want  his  daughter  widout  makin'  'im  blazin* 
mad.  Bimeby  he  gun  ter  think  'bout  de  yuther  gal, 
an'  he  got  right  up  an'  tol'  de  king  dat  he  aint  charge 
'im  nothin'  fer  what  he  done,  kaze  he  done  gi'  his 
promise  ter  'nother  gal. 

"  Dey  all  look  at  'im  like  dey  think  he  done  lose 
his  min'.  De  King  say  dat  his  daughter  is  mighty 
nice  gal,  an'  dat  Mack  will  sho  like  her.  Mack  say 
[265] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

he  don't  'spute  dat,  kaze  wid  sech  a  nice  daddy,  she 
can't  he'p  bein'  nice.  De  King  'low  dat  Mack  had 
better  see  her  befo'  he  'fuse  ter  have  her.  Mack  say 
he'll  be  mighty  glad  ter  see  her,  but  he  done  make  his 
promise  to  'nother  gal.  Wid  dat  de  King  sont  fer 
his  daughter,  an'  when  she  come  in,  Mack  seed  dat  she 
want  nobody  but  de  gal  what  he  done  strucken 
wid." 

"Is  that  all?"  asked  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  'Taint  half,"  replied  Brasilia.  "  Ef  I  wuz  ter 
tell  you  all  dat  Mack  done  wid  dat  ring,  I'd  keep 
you  here  a  week  er  mo'." 

"  That  tale,"  remarked  the  professional  story-teller, 
"  is  evidently  a  Gaelic  legend,  and  it  shows " 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Wally  Wan- 
deroon.  "  We  don't  care  what  is  shows,  so  long  as 
it  is  a  tale.  It  is  too  short  to  tire  anybody,  and  that 
is  more  than  can  be  said  for  some  tales  I  have  heard — 
if  you'll  excuse  my  frankness." 

"  I  see  you  have  taken  up  the  idea  that  I  can't  tell 
a  short  tale,"  said  the  professional  story-teller. 
"  My  views  are  different.  I  am  certain  I  can  shorten 
[266] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  KING 

them  to  any  length  that  suits  you.  The  only  rea- 
son I  spin  them  out  is  to  satisfy  the  demands  of 
art." 

"  More  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon. 
"  What  does  a  parcel  of  boys  and  girls  care  about 
what  you  call  art?  If  you  make  your  stories  short 
enough,  and  give  them  pith  and  point,  you'll  do  well 
enough.  Just  tell  the  story  for  its  own  sake,  and  let 
the  art  take  care  of  itself.  Aint  that  so?  "  he  asked 
turning  to  Drusilla. 

"  I  dunner  no  mo'  what  you  talkin'  'bout  dan  de 
rest  er  de  chillun.  But  I  bet  you  I  know  a  tale  dat 
none  un  you  aint  never  hear  tell  un,  less'n  you  lived 
wid  coloured  folks.  Dey  won't  tell  it  ter  nobody  dat 
dey  don't  like,  an'  dat  don't  like  dem." 

"  Haven't  I  heard  it?  "  Buster  John  asked. 

"  I  don't  speck  you  is,"  replied  Drusilla,  "  kaze 
it's  kinder  tetchous.  De  coloured  folks  aint  got  no 
call  fer  ter  tell  it  ter  white  chillun,  kaze  when  de  chil- 
lun grows  up  dey'll  tell  it  'roun',  an'  den  eve'ybody 
'11  know  why  de  niggers  is  black." 

"  Well,  why  do  you  want  to  talk  about  it  now  ?  " 
Buster  John  asked  somewhat  loftily. 
[267] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Kaze  we  er  free  now,  an'  'taint  no  use  fer  ter 
keep  it  hid,"  Drusilla  answered. 

"  Then  please  tell  it  and  be  quick  about  it,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan,  "  because  it  is  time  to  go.  Mr.  Bobbs 
will  think  that  little  Billy  Biscuit  is  lost." 

"  Well,  ef  we  all  aint  los',  I  dunno  de  reason,"  re- 
marked Drusilla. 

"  Let  us  have  the  tale,"  said  the  professional  story- 
teller. "  I  venture  to  say  I  can  give  a  shrewd  guess 
as  to  its  origin." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  exclaimed  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  There 
you  go  again." 

Drusilla  reflected  a  moment,  as  if  trying  to  get  the 
thread  of  the  story  straight,  and  then  began. 


[268] 


THE  SUN  TAKES  HOLIDAY 

££  ^%  T"OU  know  how  ol'  de  Sun  is,"  she  said  by 
W  way  of  introduction.  "  Well,  he'd  been 
hangin'  up  dar  in  de  sky  so  long  dat  he 
got  tired,  an'  dey  come  a  time  when  he  want  ter 
know  what  kinder  folks  he  wuz  makin'  light  fer. 
Long  ez  he  been  up  dar,  an'  bright  ez  he  shine, 
he  aint  never  got  'quainted  wid  dem  what  he  shine 
fer,  an'  so  de  time  come  when  de  Sun  feel  like  he 
des  bleeze  ter  see  how  eve'ything  gittin'  on  down  here 
whar  folks  live  at. 

"  Dey  wan't  nothin'  ter  do  but  ter  make  'range- 
ments  fer  some  un  fer  ter  keep  house  whiles  he  gone. 
He  made  inquirements,  an'  foun'  dat  de  Moon  aint 
got  nothin'  ter  do  in  de  daytime,  an'  de  Sun  ax  'er 
ef  she  won't  be  so  good  ez  ter  take  his  place  fer  one 
day,  an'  de  Moon  say  she'll  be  glad  fer  ter  'commer- 
date  de  Sun. 

"  Well,  dey  fix  'pon  a  day,  an'  when  de  time  come, 
[269] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

dar  wuz  de  Moon,  ready  fer  business.  So  de  Sun 
tol'  her  good-bye,  an'  swung  hisse'f  down  ter  de 
groun'.  Dey  wan't  nothin'  like  de  Sun  spected  ter 
fin'  it,  an'  he  aint  like  de  look  er  things.  He  walked 
aroun'  right  smart,  an'  bimeby  he  got  tired  an'  sot 
down  by  de  side  er  de  road  fer  ter  rest.  He  sot  dar, 
he  did,  kinder  dozin'  an'  wonderin'  how  come  de  worl' 
aint  no  better  dan  what  'tis,  an'  bimeby  he  fell  soun' 
asleep. 

"  Now  de  folks  an'  de  creeturs  wuz  'stonished  kaze 
de  Sun  sot  so  soon  dat  day.  De  folks'  wuz  a-workin' 
in  de  fiel's  an'  a-jowerin'  in  der  houses,  an'  de  creeturs 
wuz  a-cavortin'  in  de  woods  an'  swamps,  when,  fust 
thing  dey  knowed,  de  Sun  quit  shinin'  an'  de  moon 
come  out.  Well,  dey  all  scooted  ter  cover,  kaze  dey 
aint  know  what  ter  make  er  dat  kinder  doin's.  Some 
er  de  oP  wimmen  put  on  der  specks,  an'  tuck  de  alma- 
nac off'n  de  nail  whar  'twuz  hangin',  an'  hunted  about 
in  it  fer  ter  see  what  all  dis  mean;  but  dey  aint  fin' 
nothin'  in  de  book,  an'  all  dey  kin  do  is  ter  vow  an' 
declar'  dat  dey  aint  never  seed  de  beat  er  dat  sence 
dey  been  borned  inter  de  worl'. 

"  Now,  whiles  de  Sun  settin'  dar  fast  asleep,  here 
[270] 


The  sun  takes  part  of  a  day  of  and  comes  down  early. 


THE  SUN  TAKES  HOLIDAY 
come  a  man  polin'  'long,  an'  what  should  de  man  do 
but  run  headfo'most  right  inter  de  Sun.  Dis  wake 
'im  up,  an'  he  say  ter  de  man  dat  fer  what  he  done  he 
got  ter  stay  black  all  his  born  days,  him  an'  his  fam- 
bly,  an*  all  de  balance  er  his  tribe,  an'  all  er  dem  what 
come  atter  'im.  De  Sun  say,  '  You  aint  only  is  ter  be 
black,  but  you'll  hatter  work  hard  all  day,  an'  walk 
fur  at  night ' ;  an'  fum  dat  day  ter  dis,  all  dat  man's 
kinnery  is  been  black,  an'  dey  work  hard  all  day,  an' 
walk  fur  at  night. 

"  Den,  whiles  de  Sun  wuz  tryin'  his  best  fer  ter  git 
over  his  mad  fit,  here  come  de  white  fox  an'  run  right 
over  'im,  an'  fum  dat  day  ter  dis,  foxes,  bofe  red  an' 
grey,  is  got  black  legs,  an'  dey  look  like  dey  been 
singe.  De  Sun  call  de  fox  back  and  pass  a  law  on 
him  dat  he  got  ter  walk  at  night  an'  hide  in  de  day 
time,  an'  be  skeered  ter  death  fum  one  year's  een'  ter 
de  yuther. 

"  All  dis  fuss  wuz  mo'  dan  de  Sun  had  bargained 
fer,  an'  he  'low  ter  hisse'f  dat  he  better  skin  out  home 
'fo'  he  git  knock  ter  pieces  by  sump'n  er  'nother.  So 
he  went  back  ter  de  place  whar  he  live  at.  De  Moon 
wan't  spectin'  'im,  but  she  wuz  mo'  dan  glad  dat  he 
[273] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

come.  She  say  dat  she  don't  like  dis  way  er  shinin' 
in  de  daytime,  kaze  she  can't  dodge  de  comics  an'  dc 
fallin'  stars.  When  de  Sun  look  at  her  he  bleeze  ter 
laugh,  kaze  her  face  wuz  all  swell  up,  an'  looked  black 
an'  blue.  Ef  you  look  right  close  you'll  see  de  marks 
what  she  got  on  her  face  fum  bein'  hit  wid  de  fallin' 
stars.  De  marks  is  dar,  an'  dar  dey'll  stay.  Now, 
dat's  all  I  know  'bout  it." 

"  That  is  short  and  sweet,  as  the  woodpecker  said 
to  the  worm,"  remarked  Wally  Wanderoon,  "  and  it 
accounts  for  a  good  many  things." 

"  It  is  the  queerest  mixture  of  folklore,"  said  the 
professional  story-teller,  "  that  I  have  ever  come 
across.  There  is  something  like  it  among  the  Kaffirs, 
and — let  me  see " 

"  There  you  go  again ! "  exclaimed  Wally  Wan- 
deroon. "  I  declare  I  never  saw  such  an  obstinate, 
such  a  hard-headed  person.  What  under  the  sun  do 
these  children  care  about  the  Kaffirs?  Wait  until 
the  youngest  is  fifty-odd  years  old,  and  then  tell 
them  about  folklore,  and  the  Kaffirs,  and  what 
not." 

[274] 


The  white  fox  and  the  Sun. 


THE  SUN   TAKES   HOLIDAY 

"  I've  no  doubt  I'll  be  dead  by  that  time,"  remarked 
the  professional  story-teller  with  a  sigh. 

"  And  you  think  you'll  have  no  successors,"  said 
Wally  Wanderoon.  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  cry  about  a 
little  thing  like  that.  Queer  as  it  may  seem,  you'll 
have  plenty — and  some  of  them  worse  than  you 
are." 

"  I  dunner  what  he  talkin'  'bout,"  said  Drusilla, 
"  but  ef  he  fool  wid  me,  I'll  whirl  in  an'  tell  'im 
sump'n  he  aint  never  hear  tell  un." 

"  I'd  thank  you  kindly,"  the  professional  story- 
teller declared. 

"  Is  you  ever  hear  talk  er  Brer  Rabbit  an*  de 
Bee?  "  Drusilla's  tone  was  slightly  snappish,  for 
she  had  a  dim  idea  that  the  story-teller  had  commented 
unfavourably  on  the  tale  she  had  told. 

"Brother  Rabbit  and  the  Bee — I  don't  think  I 
ever  did,"  replied  the  man  in  the  box.  "  But  it  prom- 
ises well.  Brother  Rabbit  and  the  Bee — that  is  a 
good  title." 

"  Title ! "  protested  Drusilla.  "  What  you  call  it 
dat  fer?  'Taint  no  title;  it's  des  a  plain  eve'yday 
tale." 

[277] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Oh,  do  tell  it,  Drusilla ! "  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 
"  I've  heard  you  tell  it  once,  but  I  have  forgotten  it." 

"  Dat  aint  sayin'  much  fer  de  tale,"  responded  Dru- 
silla. "  'Taint  much,  but  it's  better  dan  dem  what 
you-all  been  tellin'.  Thereupon  Drusilla  began  to 
pick  her  finger-nails,  a  sure  sign  of  embarrassment. 
Presently  she  began  and  told  the  story  of 


[278] 


XI 
BROTHER  RABBIT  AND  THE  BEE 

££  V    "^EY  wuz  a  time  when  Brer  Rabbit  had  a 

J  mighty  habit  er  chawin'  sweetgum.    Day 

in    an'    day    out,    no    matter    whar   you 

seed   'im,  his   jaw  would  be  a- workin',   an'   'twan't 

no   cud   dat   he   had;   it   wuz   des   plain   sweetgum. 

Ef    he    fail    ter    fin'    it    fresh    ter    his    han',    he'd 

bark   de   fust  sweetgum  tree  he   come  ter  an'   den 

go   back   dar   in   a   day   or   two,   an'    git  de  truck 

what  done  ooze  out  at  de  place  whar  he  gnyawed 

de   bark    off.      He    done    dis    so   much   dat   all   his 

fambly,   an'   der   famblies   atter   'em,   down   ter   dis 

day    an'    time,    done   got   in    de   habits    er   workin' 

der  jaws,  an'  barkin'  most  eve'y  tree  dey  come  ter. 

Dey    done    fergit   all    'bout   de   sweetgum,   yit   dat 

aint  hender  um  fum  workin'  der  jaws  an'  barkin'  trees. 

"  Well,  one  day,  whiles  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  takin'  a 

walk  in  de  woods  fer  ter  git  de  fresh  air,  he  run 

'cross  a  great  big  sweetgum  tree.     Some  un  had  strip 

[279] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

de  bark  f um  one  side,  an'  it  wuz  fair  reekin'  wid  sweet- 
gum — not  de  yaller  sort  dat  burns  yo'  mouf ,  but  de 
white  kind  dat  tas'es  good.  When  Brer  Rabbit  see 
all  dis,  he  make  up  his  min'  dat  he'll  git  his  fill  er 
sweetgum  fer  one  time,  an*  take  some  ter  de  ol'  'oman 
an*  de  chillun. 

"  Brer  Rabbit  feel  so  good,  he  did,  dat  he  tuck 
off  his  hat  an*  sot  it  on  de  side  er  his  head,  an'  strut  up 
ter  de  sweetgum  tree,  an'  rap  on  de  bark  like  he 
knockin'  at  de  door.  He  start  ter  say, '  Howdy,  eve'y- 
body ! '  but  'f o'  he  kin  git  de  words  out'n  his  mouf, 
he  jerk  his  han'  'way  fum  de  tree,  an'  fetched  a  squall 
dat  mought  er  been  heard  a  mile.  He  done  des  like 
de  tree  burn  him,  but  'twan't  no  burn;  'twuz  des  a 
Bee,  an'  a  mighty  little  un  at  dat — one  er  deze  yer 
kind  what  w'ars  black  striped  britches. 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say,  '  What  you  want  ter  stob  me 
wid  yo'  knife  fer?  '  Mr.  Bee  'low,  «  What  you  mash 
me  fer? '  Brer  Rabbit  say  he  aint  see  de  Bee  tell 
atter  he  got  stobbed.  Mr.  Bee  'low,  '  You  see  me 
now,  don't  you?  '  Brer  Rabbit  say,  '  I  feels  you  lots 
wuss  dan  I  sees  you.  Whyn't  you  holler  'fo'  you  jab 
me  wid  yo'  knife?  '  Mr.  Bee  say,  *  How  kin  anybody 
[280] 


BROTHER    RABBIT 

holler  when  dey  git  de  breff  knock  out'n  um?  You 
got  heels  an'  I  got  wings,  but  when  I  gits  a  load  er 
goody-goody,  I  can't  use  my  wings  so  free,  an*  den 
I'm  bleeze  ter  pull  out  my  knife.' 

"Brer  Rabbit  han'  hurt  'im  so  bad  whar  he  got 
stung  at,  an'  he  make  so  much  fuss  'bout  it,  dat  Mr. 
Bee  tol'  'im  he  kin  kyo  it  by  puttin'  some  year-wax 
on  it,  an'  sho  nuff  de  stingded  place  quit  hurtin'  when 
Brer  Rubbit  greased  it  wid  some  wax  out'n  his  year. 
Den  he  got  'im  a  great  big  chaw  er  sweetgum,  nuff 
fer  ter  last  'im  a  week,  an'  he  got  a  whole  lot  mo'  an' 
put  it  on  a  big  poplar  leaf  an'  say  he  gwineter  take 
it  ter  his  ol'  'oman  an'  de  chillun. 

"  All  dis  time  de  Bee  wuz  settin'  right  whar  he  wuz 
when  Brer  Rabbit  hurt  'im.  Brer  Rabbit  say, 
'Heyo!  aint  you  gone  yit?'  and  Mr.  Bee  say  he 
feelin'  so  bad  an'  weak  dat  he  dunner  whe'r  he  kin 
git  home  er  not.  Brer  Rabbit  'low  he  mighty  sorry, 
an'  ax  ef  he  can't  do  sump'n  fer  ter  he'p  'im." 

"  Why,  bees  die  when  they  sting  anything,"  said 
Buster  John.  "  I  heard  Grandfather  say  so." 

"Well  an'  good,"  replied  Drusilla,  with  a  tri- 
umphant toss  of  her  head.  "  You  hear  me  talkin* 
[281] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

ez  hard  ez  I  kin ;  now,  den,  des  lis'n  at  me  whiles  I  tells 
de  tale — ef  you  kin  call  it  a  tale.  Wharbouts 
wuz  I?" 

"  Where  Brother  Rabbit  was  asking  Mr.  Bee  if  he 
couldn't  do  something  to  help  him,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Well,  den,"  remarked  Drusilla,  "  when  Brer  Rab- 
bit ax  'im  dat,  Mr.  Bee  say  he  mighty  much  erbleeged. 
He  hate  might'ly  fer  ter  pester  Brer  Rabbit,  he  say, 
but  ef  he'll  be  so  good  ez  ter  take  'im  back  ter  de 
big  poplar  tree,  whar  he  live  at,  he'll  be  mo'  dan 
thankful.  So  Mr.  Bee  say,  an'  no  sooner  do  he  say 
it,  dan  Brer  Rabbit  helt  out  de  poplar  leaf  what  got 
de  sweetgum  on  it,  an'  Mr.  Bee  crawled  on  it.  Den, 
atter  Mr.  Bee  tell  'im  which  way  ter  go,  Brer  Rabbit 
went  wid  a  hop,  skip,  an'  a  jump,  an'  dough  de  big 
tree  whar  Mr.  Bee  live  at  wuz  a  mighty  fur  ways, 
'twant  long  'fo'  dey  got  dar. 

"  De  door  er  Mr.  Bee's  house  wan't  so  mighty  fur 
fum  de  groun',  an'  when  his  fambly  hear  some  un 
knockin'  dar,  dey  swarm  out  fer  ter  see  what  de 
trouble  wuz,  an'  no  sooner  is  dey  come  out,  dan  dey 
see  Brer  Rabbit  wid  de  sick  Bee,  an'  whiles  dey  wuz 


Brer  Rabbit  brings  the  bee  home. 


BROTHER    RABBIT 

mighty  sorry  fer  ter  see  one  er  der  fambly  in  a  bad 
way,  dey  wuz  mighty  glad  ter  know  dat  Brer  Rabbit 
wuz  good  miff  fer  ter  fetch  'im  home;  an'  dey  say 
dat  dey  aint  nothin'  in  der  house  too  good  fer  'im. 

"Brer  Rabbit  thank  um  kindly,  an'  say  he  aint 
done  no  mo'  dan  what  he'd  speck  some  un  ter  do  fer 
him — not  dat  he  spected  any  an'  eve'ybody  ter  do  it, 
kaze  dar  wuz  Brer  Fox,  what  had  been  er  pursuin' 
on  atter  him  an'  his  fambly  sence  de  year  One.  Den 
all  de  bees,  der  sisters  an'  der  brers,  say  dat  dey  wish 
dey'd  er  know'd  it  long  'fo'  dis,  kaze  dey'd  V  made  it 
hot  fer  Brer  Fox. 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say  dey  may  have  a  visit  fum  Brer 
Fox  dat  ve'y  day  er  de  day  atter,  kaze  he  done  hear 
Brer  Fox  say  dat  he  know  whar  dey  wuz  a  bee  tree, 
an'  dat  he  wuz  gwineter  git  some  er  de  honey.  Den 
de  Bees  sorter  HP  der  wings  an'  strut  'roun'  an'  say 
dey  hope  he'll  come  ter  der  house. 

"  Whiles  dey  wuz  jawin'  wid  one  an'er,  some  un  um 
crawled  on  Brer  Rabbit,  an'  when  he  flinched  dey  ax 
'im  what  de  matter.  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  he  did,  dat 
he  wuz  born  ticklish  an'  he'd  die  ticklish,  an*  dey'd 
hatter  scuzen  'im.  Bees  got  lots  mo'  sense  dan  folks, 
[285] 


WALLY    WANDEROON 

an'  soon  ez  dey  fin'  out  dat  Brer  Rabbit  is  ticklish, 
dey  gun  ter  play  pranks  on  'im.  Dey'd  zoon  'roun' 
his  head,  an'  light  on  his  years,  an'  dey  kep'  dat  up 
tell  Brer  Rabbit  can't  do  nothin'  but  dodge,  fus'  dis 
way  an'  den  dat,  an'  de  mo'  he  dodge,  de  wuss  de 
Bees  got,  an'  he  des  bleeze  ter  tell  urn  good-bye. 

"  Dey  foller'd  'im  a  little  piece,  de  Bees  did,  des 
fer  de  fun  er  de  thing,  but  bimeby  dey  turn  'roun'  an' 
went  back  home.  Dey  aint  no  sooner  do  dis  dan  here 
come  Brer  Fox  prancin'  thoo  de  woods  wid — '  Howdy, 
Brer  Rabbit !  howdy ! '  an'  '  Whar  you  been  dis  long 
time,  an'  how's  yo'  fambly,  an'  all  de  chillun?  '  Brer 
Rabbit  say  dey  aint  doin'  so  mighty  well,  an'  den  he 
ax  Brer  Fox  how  his  folks  is.  Brer  Fox  say  dey  er 
des  natchally  scrumptious,  fat  ez  butter,  an'  happy 
ez  de  day's  long.  Brer  Rabbit  say  he  monst'us  glad 
ter  hear  sech  good  news. 

"  Den  Brer  Fox  say,  «  Whar  you  bin,  Brer  Rabbit, 
an'  whar  you  git  so  much  nice  sweet  gum?'  Brer 
Rabbit  'low,  he  did,  dat  he  got  it  at  de  gittin'  place, 
which  it  wuzn't  so  mighty  fur  off.  Brer  Fox  ax  'im 
whar  de  place  wuz,  an'  Brer  Rabbit  'low  dat  ef  Brer 
Fox  '11  make  like  he's  a  runnin'  atter  'im,  he'll  show 
[286] 


BROTHER    RABBIT 

'im  de  place.  '  When  we  come  ter  de  place,'  Brer 
Rabbit  say, '  I'll  whirl  short  ter  de  left,  an'  den  all  you 
got  ter  do  is  go  ter  de  big  tree  whar  de  Bees  live  at, 
an'  knock  on  de  door  wid  yo'  cane  an'  tell  um  fer  ter 
fetch  you  out  some  sweetgum,  an'  be  purty  quick 
about  it.' 

"  Brer  Fox  'low  dat  dey  aint  nothin'  easier  dan  dat ; 
an'  when  Brer  Rabbit  turn  'roun'  an'  break  inter  a  run, 
Brer  Fox  tuck  out  atter  'im  licketty  split,  an'  'twuz 
in  about  ez  much  ez  Brer  Rabbit  kin  do  ter  keep  Brer 
Fox  fum  ketchin'  'im  sho  nuff,  dough  dis  wan't  in  de 
bargain.  When  dey  come  ter  de  place,  Brer  Rabbit, 
he  dodge  ter  de  left,  an'  Brer  Fox  come  mighty  nigh 
runnin'  right  inter  de  tree.  He  stop,  he  did,  an'  look 
'roun'  fer  ter  see  how  de  Ian'  lay,  an'  den  he  went  ter 
de  tree  whar  de  Bees  live  at,  an'  knock  on  it  wid  his 
walkin'-cane,  an'  holler  an'  tell  de  Bees  fer  ter  fetch 
'im  some  sweetgum,  an'  fer  ter  fetch  it  in  a  hurry. 

"  Brer  Rabbit,  he  got  off  a  little  piece,  an'  den  stop 
fer  ter  see  what  gwineter  happen.  He  aint  had  long 
ter  wait  nudder,  kaze  it  want  no  time  'fo'  he  seed  Brer 
Fox  snap  at  hisse'f,  fust  on  one  side  an'  den  on  de 
yuther.  Den  he  quit  snappin'  an'  try  ter  wipe  de 
[287] 


WALLY  WANDEROON 
Bees  out'n  his  face  an'  eyes,  an'  den  he  got  down  on 
de  groun'  an'  roll  over  an'  over.  De  mo'  he  roll  de 
mo'  he  want  ter  roll,  tell  bimeby  it  look  like  he  wuz 
gwine  'roun'  like  a  whirlygig.  An'  he  wan't  only 
rollin';  he  wuz  squallin'  all  de  time  like  he  had  his 
han'  kotch  in  a  steel  trap. 

"  He  aint  roll  dis  way  long,  kaze  it  got  so  hot  £er 
Brer  Fox  dat  he  fetched  one  squeal  an'  broke  out  thoo 
de  woods  like  de  Ol'  Boy  wuz  atter  'im.  Ez  he  run 
de  Bees  strung  out  behime  'im  so  thick  dat  dey  look 
like  a  fog,  an'  den  dey  close  in  on  'im.  'Taint  no 
needs  fer  ter  tell  you  what  happen  ter  Brer  Fox. 
When  de  Bees  let  'im  'lone,  he  wuz  a  plum  sight.  He 
lay  dar  groanin'  an'  lickin'  hisse'f  fer  de  longest,  but 
bimeby,  'long  todes  night,  he  got  up  an'  drag  his- 
se'f off  home.  Brer  Rabbit,  he  stayed  watchin'  what 
de  upshot  wuz  gwineter  be,  an'  when  de  swarm  wuz 
at  its  biggest,  he  des  lay  down  on  de  groun'  an'  holler 
an'  laugh  tell  he  can't  laugh  no  mo' ;  but  'long  'bout 
de  time  when  he  think  Brer  Fox  is  able  fer  ter  git  on 
his  foots  ag'in,  Brer  Rabbit  jump  up  an'  crack  bofe 
heels  tergedder,  an'  dance  off  home  des  ez  spry  ez 
any  er  his  chillun." 

[288] 


The  Bees  make  it  warm  for  Brer  Fox 


BROTHER    RABBIT 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that?  "  Wally  Wanderoon 
inquired  of  the  professional  story-teller. 

"  You  ask  me,"  replied  that  individual,  "  but  if  I 
answer  you,  you'll  abuse  and  vilify  me,  and  threaten 
me  with  all  sorts  of  punishments." 

"  Not  this  time,"  said  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  I'm 
curious  to  know  what  you  think  about  the  story." 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  responded  the  profes- 
sional story-teller,  "  I  have  never  heard  anything  like 
it.  It  is  probably  negro  folklore,  but  to  be  candid 
with  you  I  don't  see  the  point  of  the  tale." 

"  Huh !  I  bet  you  Brer  Fox  seed  p'ints  in  it  an' 
felt  um  too,"  remarked  Drusilla  with  a  show  of  indig- 
nation. "  I  hear  my  granny  tell  dat  tale  long  'fo' 
Miss  Susan  dar  wuz  born.  But  dat  needer  here  ner 
dar,"  she  went  on.  "  What  I  want  ter  know  is  when 
we  er  gwine  ter  git  away  fum  here.  It's  long  past 
de  time  when  deze  chillun  oughter  bin  startin'  home. 
I  aint  noways  skeer'd,  but  I'd  like  ter  know  what  I'm 
a-doin'  an'  when  I'm  a-gwineter  do  it." 

"Why,  it's  early  yet,"  remarked  Wally  Wan- 
deroon. "  There  is  certainly  time  for  another 
story." 

[291] 


W  ALLY    WANDEROON 

"  Not  like  dem  what  dat  man  in  de  box  tells,"  re- 
marked Dmsilla. 

"  And  I  wanted  to  introduce  you  to  the  Doodang, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  creatures  you  ever 
saw." 

"  Not  me !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla.  "  I  don't  wanter 
know  no  yuther  creeturs  'cep'  dem  what  I'm  ac- 
quainted wid.  You'll  hatter  scuzen  me." 

"  Some  other  time  will  do  as  well,"  said  Wally 
Wanderoon,  "  though  I'm  afraid  I  won't  be  here  when 
you  want  to  come  again." 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?  "  Sweetest  Susan  inquired. 

"  Yes;  I  am  going  to  find  the  Good  Old  Times  we 
used  to  have  if  I  am  compelled  to  travel  the  wide  world 
all  over;  and  I  hope  to  find  a  better  story-teller  than 
the  one  you  have  heard,  or  else  find  a  remedy  for  his 
scientific  foolishness,  which  is  a  disease  hard  to 
cure." 

"  I  liked  his  stories  very  well,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  And  so  did  I,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

"  He  too  long-winded  ter  suit  me,"  Drusilla  de- 
clared. 

"  Well,  I'll  see  all  of  you  again,"  said  Wally  Wan- 


BROTHER    RABBIT 

deroon.  "  I'll  have  to  come  back  to  feed  the  Doo- 
dang,  and  then  we'll  have  some  stories  that  are 
stories." 

"  Please  come  before  we  move  to  town,"  Sweetest 
Susan  insisted.  "  We  are  going  to  move  next 
year." 

"  If  I  can,"  replied  Wally  Wanderoon.  "  But  it's 
a  pity  you  are  going  away  from  the  country- 
side. You'll  think  of  it  many  a  long  and  lonely 
day." 

"  Why,  we  are  back  where  we  started  from ! "  ex- 
claimed Buster  John,  looking  around.  "  How  did 
we  get  here  and  not  know  it  ?  " 

But  Wally  Wanderoon  was  no  longer  with  them. 
He  had  disappeared.  The  modest  home  of  Mr.  Bobbs 
was  in  plain  view,  and  this  prevented  the  children  from 
a  bewilderment  which,  under  other  circumstances, 
would  have  been  troublesome. 

"  Does  you-all  reckon  dat  we've  seed  what  we  seed 
an'  heard  what  we  heard?  It  seem  mo'  like  a  dream 
dan  dreams  deyse'f ." 

"  Well,  we  couldn't  all  dream  the  same  dream,  could 
we?  "  Buster  John  inquired  with  some  show  of  con- 
[293] 


W ALLY    WANDEROON 

tempt  for  the  very  natural  doubt  expressed  by  Dru- 
silla. 

This  seemed  to  settle  the  matter  with  the  children, 
and,  after  seeing  Billy  Biscuit  safe  home,  they  found 
it  necessary  to  make  preparations  for  returning  to 
theirs,  for  the  sun  was  low  in  the  sky. 


THE    END 


[294] 


[IVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1991 


[2554)444 


1810 


7Tanderocn 


006064 


PS 
1810 

nS 


